First of His Name
by peteynorth
Summary: NOT a cross-over, but a retelling of the Transformers story set in a more Game of Thrones styled society, where your station in life is dictated by the hot spot that spawned you. The lives of a disgruntled miner from Tarn, a belligerent gladiator from Simfur, ambitious royals, a newborn foundling, and many others interweave to give rise to the worlds and the war we all know.
1. Chapter 1

Zeta Prime

The chair was large and imposing, made of metal, but undoubtedly the softest of ores he'd ever felt, outside of the gestational metallico of a protoform of course. He watched his gray fingers glide over the armrest; one constructed nearly eight million years before, constructed by the greatest smiths on Cybertron for his predecessor, the legend, greatest of their kind, the final Matrix-bearer, Guardian Prime. Zeta looked across his office at a far more recent carving of Guardian Prime, one commissioned by Zeta shortly after the declaration of Guardian's death and Zeta's appointment as his successor. Guardian had led the planet out of eons of warfare, made a binding peace and created a new government that all Cybertronians could abide by, was the face of the golden age, a time of tremendous prosperity, and was on the cusp of expanding that prosperity throughout the galaxy and beyond. That ended over a million years ago.

"Prime?" Very few could enter his presence without him knowing they were coming, Starscream of House Nexus was obviously one of those few. Zeta turned toward the door to see the sleek, athletic form, casually gazing up to see the perfectly formed face bearing that same insufferable smirk he had seen countless times before. Though born from a common metallico pool outside of Vos, Starscream had no problem adopting the airs of nobility even before being adopted into Altihex's ruling house, and expanded the arrogant smirk into a wide insubordinate grin upon locking optics with the Prime. "I'm sorry to disturb you without any sort of notice, but we must speak."

Zeta pulled his gray and orange frame out of Guardian Prime's chair; he could never bring himself to consider it his. He had been selected by the Senate, almost unanimously, to be the new Prime, but in the absence of the Matrix or its divine endorsement of his leadership, there were many who paused before addressing him as Prime, himself included. But Starscream, that proper fop, always addressed him most regally, verbally if in no other way. "What can I do for you Starscream? Is anything amiss in the emirate of Altihex?"

Starscream chuckled lightly as he entered the chamber. "Outside of Vos and Tesarus I don't think I've stepped foot in any part of Altihex in all my life." The winged noble sauntered over to a table with a decanter of liquefied and mildly tainted energon on it, and grasped one of the six goblets resting next to it. "Flown over much of it, I suppose, but nothing down there ever looked appealing enough for me to land." Zeta looked over his guest, subduing a feeling of mild admiration at the form before him. The protective shells that the vast majority of Cybertronians transformed into lent themselves well to ground vehicles; a few minor modifications and the installation of wheels, treads, motors, etc. But every so often a protoform's shell was aerodynamically shaped enough to allow for aerial alternate modes. Starscream was one of those few; arguably the greatest example of those few. His frame truly was magnificent. Zeta was pulled out of his thoughts upon seeing Starscream staring at him, cup in hand. "You don't mind, do you?"

Zeta Prime smiled and shrugged. "Of course not."

"Shall I pour you one?" Starscream asked as he filled his own goblet.

"No." Zeta Prime replied disinterestedly, turning his back on his uninvited visitor.

"Ah, trying to retain your wits when dwelling upon reports of these underground fighting tournaments?" Starscream smiled at seeing Zeta Prime's face turn back toward him in surprise.

"How are you aware of these things?" Zeta asked, cutting the distance between them to a couple feet.

"If you and Sentinel Honorum were aiming for discretion, you should have selected someone other than his dog Prowl to do your snooping." Starscream smirked. "The whispers of these gladiator pits have reached even the audio receptors of nobles. There is even rumors that fights have taken place in Vos itself, mere miles from the confines of House Nexus."

Zeta Prime stared intently at his uninvited guest. "Tell me of these whispers; every single one that has come across your noble audio receptors."

Starscream grinned into Zeta's intensely set face. "Well, the whispers are unreliable, but very entertaining. They tell of secret pits, traveling warriors, mostly miners with strong backs and arms looking to earn some fame and much more energon than they're making in their company towns, and wealthy patrons placing obscene wagers on the outcomes."

Zeta nodded. "No different from the whispers that have reached me."

Starscream shrugged. "Yeah, the whispers can be very disappointing." He eyed Zeta Prime as the leader turned away from him in disappointment and annoyance. "But what I've learned firsthand as a warrior in these pits," Starscream smiled as a stunned Zeta Prime turned back toward him with a disbelieving look etched onto his face, "is far more satisfying." Zeta simply stared for a moment, his mouth slightly agape, and in that moment failed to realize the danger as Starscream backhanded him.

Zeta Prime stumbled back and fell onto a table adjacent to the chair he had been seated in before. "Treacherous lowborn scum!" Zeta whipped around and raised his hands for combat.

Starscream smirked as he too adopted a fighting stance, though one lacking the seriousness of Zeta Prime's. He effortlessly circled around, almost mockingly, displaying the ease and confidence derived from actual recent combat; unlike the stilted stance of Prime's, who was reliant upon countless hours of training and sparring, but for whom any actual combat experience occurred millions of years before. "Ahh, how dare I strike my highborn better? Despite my inclusion into House Nexus, I will always be seen as a common hotspot spawn born of common metallico."

"You're despised for your arrogance, your lack of honor, and your treacherous nature, not for the pit where your spark emerged or the sentio metallico that engulfed it." Zeta Prime lunged at Starscream, and succeeded in tackling his assailant. "Now you will tell me what you know of ufff!" Starscream's forehead crashing into Zeta's nose silenced the Prime.

The lean noble gladiator from Vos then flipped the Prime off of him and sprung back to his feet, delivering a kick to Zeta's face. But the Prime absorbed it well and sprang to his feet immediately. The two traded blows for several moments before Starscream used his superior speed to evade a punch and land his counter square on Zeta's jaw.

Zeta stumbled back and sized Starscream up with a hateful stare. The arrogant shit, there he grinned, bouncing on the tips of his shiny blue feet, hands at the ready but that grin eternally etched on his face. "You're good, better than me, but not good enough to do whatever it is you plan to do and get away with it. Whether by my hand, or after a trial and judgment, your pretty blue spark will be snuffed; that is unless you stand down and cooperate with the investigation."

"I'm not standing down, Your Grace." Starscream smirked. "I plan to kill you, Zeta Decimus, fifth to be called Prime, first to be chosen by the Senate of Cybertron. And I will be getting away with it." Starscream's optics darted toward the door off to the side before returning to Zeta Prime.

Prime turned toward the doorway and saw Ogrus of House Onyx, and Militus of House Macht, the ruling houses of Nyon and Polyhex respectively. "Ogrus Onyx, Militus Macht! Assist me, I am under attack! Get my guards!"

"Oh, we've gotten your guards." Ogrus Onyx held up a glowing, irradiated blade, one still sizzling off the inner energon and mech fluids of a prior victim, the draconic features of his bestial alternate mode clearly displayed on his shoulders and back.

"I was under the impression that you'd be able to handle this." Militus Macht grumbled agitatedly to Starscream.

"I am handling this." Starscream replied, barely hiding his annoyance at having his combat skill competence questioned.

"Just kill him." Militus grumbled, tossing a blade equally 'bloodied' and sizzling as Ogrus's to the floor at Starscream's feet.

"Bastards." Zeta Prime grumbled before lunging forward and throwing a punch at Starscream that meant to distract the Altihexian as he continued his charge toward the door. Unfortunately for the Prime, Starscream parried the blow and landed a straight left to Zeta's face. Zeta bounced away from the blow, but remained on his feet and continued toward the door. Ogrus's arm shot forward, his blade tip darting toward Prime's torso, but Zeta twisted enough so that it only sliced his outer right shoulder. Militus's balled left fist landed true though, smashing Prime right in the nose.

Prime hit the ground, but each of his arms was instantly grabbed by Ogrus and Militus, and he found himself being dragged back into the room, listening to Starscream chuckling lightly as they did so. "Let's finish this up and get out of here." Militus grumbled as he and Ogrus dumped Prime back onto the metal floor.

"Fine." Starscream replied as he picked up the blade that Militus had tossed him. "It's nothing personal Prime, frankly I've always liked you, but business is business, and these gladiatorial fights are good business."

"Drop your swords and step away from the Prime!" The no-nonsense voice in the doorway was owned by the purple and black form holding a large plasma rifle.

Prime looked up to see a blurry dark image in his doorway. Ogrus and Militus froze, but Starscream chuckled lightly and addressed the newcomer. "Ah, Rabattus Decimus, how nice of you to join us."

"What in the pit is going on here?" Rabattus roared.

"Rabattus, brother, thank Primus you're here." Zeta called out in relief.

"Come to me, Zeta." Rabattus told the Prime.

"Rabattus, are we not friends?" Starscream asked as Zeta started crawling away from his assailants. "We've always been close, join us and share in the spoils of what we've created. What Zeta threatens to ruin for us."

Rabattus leveled his rifle at Starscream's head. "You ask me to betray the Prime? Even more so, you ask me to betray a member of my own house? He was Zeta Decimus long before he was Zeta Prime. We emerged from the sacred metallico pool of Petrex during the same birthquake, the same pulse." Rabattus continued to stare disbelievingly at Starscream. "Toss me your sword." Starscream shrugged and complied, lobbing the sword toward Rabattus's feet. The darkly colored savior bent over and gripped the blade's handle as Zeta stood to stumble toward him. Rabattus lowered his left, sword holding arm for Zeta to grab his elbow and steady himself. "Easy brother."

"Thank you, Rabattus." Zeta muttered as he got his bearings and stepped back, turning to face his attackers. "You three are under arr…" Prime shuddered, something impacted his upper back. A pain started to emerge from his back, and now one in his chest. He looked down to see the tip of the irradiated blade Rabattus had confiscated exiting through his upper chest, causing sparks and spurts of internal fluids to come bursting out into the air. The three would-be assassins all gasped in unison, watching him as he twisted his head in an attempt to look upon the wielder of the weapon. Had there been another conspirator who had just now gotten the drop on Rabattus? That had to be it. But no, all he saw behind him was Rabattus's face, then upon lowering his gaze saw his dark comrade's hand gripping the blade that had impaled him.

Rabattus planted his left foot on Prime's lower back and pushed him forward while pulling back on the sword, sending his fellow member of House Decimus collapsing to the ground. Zeta once again turned to look upon his betrayer, and opened his mouth to condemn him, but Rabattus's blade sliced into his open mouth. "I don't want to hear it." Rabattus growled, all the while maintaining his rifle on the other three. "I assume you were smart enough to bring swords that can't be traced back to any of you." Zeta listened to his fellow Decimus address his attackers.

"We were." Militus replied.

"Good." Rabattus replied as he looked down and watched the light fading from the optics of Zeta Prime. "Unfortunately I can't say the same about this firearm. But make no mistake; I will have no problem cutting the three of you in half should you try anything. My story would simply be…"

"You came too late to save the Prime and his guards, but you were able to catch us in the act and execute us, yada yada yada." Starscream interrupted. "But you don't want that, or you'd have pulled the trigger already. So what is it that you want?"

"More than just spoils. And, provided your false evidence isn't too set in stone, some patsies to frame." Rabattus replied before raising his blade one last time and driving it down.

Branus Modus

He grumbled and spat in disgust as his most powerful fighters continually failed to best the Juggernaut of Simfur. Branus, head of House Modus, ruling house of Ultrix, as well as every lord in the emirates of Polyhex, Uraya, Praxus, Nyon and Altihex were sick of Ogrus Onyx's prize monster laying waste to their champions. "Engex!"

A servant was quick to enter the balcony and deliver a tray with full decanter and one large, ornate metal goblet. Branus grabbed both, filled the goblet, and slammed the decanter back down on the tray hard enough to make the servant nearly lose his balance. "Now get out!" Branus returned his focus back to the battle pit, just in time to see his three best swordsmen attack the Juggernaut in unison. The hulking robot laughed as they lunged in with their swords, his own sweeping parry with his gigantic broadsword brushing away two of the strikes, allowing the third sword to cut into his side. The large warrior's laughter continued as he used his large black fist to batter away the one successful assailant. The other two continued their attack, but the massive warrior pushed them back several steps, then he himself stepped back and transformed into a ferocious two-legged dragon with a massive cranium and jaws. The beast roared, looked up toward the crowd, and let loose with a stream of flame from his mouth. The fire was solely to impress and entertain the crowd, and to intimidate his opponents; this was a non-projectile weapon contest. Technically even this display was a violation, but as the Juggernaut of Simfur had happily accepted the three on one odds, no one would protest over something so insignificant.

"Lord Modus?" The servant that had delivered the putrefied beverage tentatively addressed his master.

"Why are you back?" Branus barked as he turned his gaze away from the bestial shell of the warrior from Simfur tearing into his warriors and up at the timid servant.

"My lord, there is a holo-summons from Cybertropolis. Lords Militus Macht, Starscream Nexus and Ogrus Onyx are waiting for you." The servant replied.

"Ughn." Branus grumbled as he rose from his large chair. "Don't interrupt me unless the beast kills one of my warriors. If Ogrus's favorite pet can't respect the non-fatality rules of this bout any more than he respects the projectile weaponry rules, then I want Ogrus online and there for me to focus my rage at." With that Branus marched into a secluded room behind his balcony, and despite his order to his servant, he locked the door behind him. He marched to the center of the room where a large mechanical circular table sat, and reached toward a control panel to activate a holo-projector in the center of the table, with the images of Starscream, Militus, Ogrus, and to his surprise, Rabattus Decimus appearing.

"Hello Branus, just letting you know that it is done." Starscream cheerfully declared.

"What is he doing with you?" Branus barked and nodded toward the image of Rabattus.

"Oh, Rabattus, well, he helped us with the dispatching of Zeta Prime." Starscream replied.

"Nonsense!" Branus countered. "Zeta was of House Decimus, Rabattus would never…"

"He did." Militus replied, his tone and authority putting an end to the debate. While they were all technically equals, Militus of House Macht was clearly the one in charge. "It came with a price, but one that is also an opportunity. A percentage of all gates and gambling cuts will go to Rabattus. But on our side, he will open up certain cities in the emirate of Ankmor to our games, including Petrex."

Branus shook his head. "As profitable as that can potentially be, it is also very dangerous. We control our emirates, and are able to keep our activities a secret. Rabattus does not lead house Decimus, Dynastus does, and should word get back to him about these events, he will do what he can to shine a light on what we're doing."

"Rabattus has assured us that he can either keep things from Dynastus's notice, or deal with him if the need arises." Starscream replied.

"We believe him capable of these things." Militus continued. "And he has the resources and ability to create and distribute video feeds of the fights through underground networks."

"He even provided us with better marks to blame the murder on." Ogrus added.

"Again, too much risk." Branus replied.

"Risk, but not too much." Starscream countered. "The video feeds are potentially far more profitable than the gates and gambling."

"What good are these vast profits when word gets out, and trust me, it will get out, and we are arrested and stripped of all titles and holdings?" Branus argued.

"I understand and respect your concerns," Rabattus finally chimed in, "but I assure you that there are ways to keep word from getting out, and I am an expert in these ways."

"We can discuss in greater detail later." Militus announced, bringing the discussion to a close. "Spread the word to the others and let them know that Prime is dead, evidence implicating the anti-nobility group Autobots has been planted, and for now, we're a slight bit safer."

"Sentinel Honorum's subordinates are still poking around."

"Let them." Starscream replied. "They have no one to report to."

"They will once Sentinel is named Prime." Branus replied. "You all know he will be selected."

"And we'll deal with that if and when it happens." Militus replied.

"Very well." Branus replied, unsatisfied but willing to let the debate end for now.

"So Branus," a grinning Ogrus called out, "how are your vaunted warriors faring against Grimlock?" Branus simply switched off the transmission and marched back toward the door. "Engex!"

Xaaron

He couldn't put it off for much longer, but he was unable pull his optics away from Zeta Prime's lifeless form, specifically, those darkened optics that only a few days earlier had been so full of life. He had spent countless hours debating, counseling, or just commiserating with the former Prime over the eons. He had been one of the few that Zeta had confided his secret doubts and fears to, fears of not being worthy. He had been elected by the Senate to be Prime, whereas every single one of his predecessors had been chosen by the Matrix. But the Matrix was missing, and enough time had passed so that every single Cybertronian had long since come to the conclusion that it was gone for good. But despite a sanction from the highest source Cybertron had to offer, Zeta still had had his doubts.

Not that it mattered anymore. While having made mistakes, as well as the end of their planet's golden age fading away on his watch, Zeta Prime had been a just and effective leader. He would never be held in the same regard as Guardian Prime, and likely not revered to the same levels as Primon, Prima, or Prime Nova, but he would present a favorable and respected memory, and will have paved the way toward greater acceptance for future Primes lacking the Matrix. But more than his status as their planet's leader, or the legacy that he would leave, Zeta was a friend, and Xaaron would feel his loss for as long as his spark pulsed.

"Senator Xaaron?" Xaaron's optics darted up toward the door and saw Crosscut, a young senator who had not yet been in the Senate long enough to lose his idealism. "Sir, it's time."

"I know." Xaaron reached out and touched the chest of the dead Prime. "Goodbye old friend." The older senator reached down to the side of the metal slab that Zeta Prime's body was resting upon toward a control panel and flipped a switch. Hover repulsors gently lifted the slab off of the table it had been resting upon and allowed Xaaron to effortlessly guide it toward the door, where Crosscut was watching with subdued sorrow. He stepped aside so that Xaaron could pass with the body of Prime, and followed from a respectful distance down the hallway toward the Senate Forum.

Those filling the forum likely didn't raise their voices beyond a light whisper, but with the multitudes the sound coming toward them was nothing short of thunderous. The thunder ceased the moment the tip of the hovering slab emerged from the hallway, and Xaaron and Crosscut a moment later. Crosscut turned and stepped off to the side to join his fellow senators, while Xaaron continued to the center of the vast room guiding the body of the late Prime. Xaaron pulled the slab to a stop over a table in the center of the room and switched off the propulsion system, allowing it to rest gently on the table. He looked one last time at Zeta Prime before gazing up and taking in the thousands of mourners, knowing that tens of thousands more waited outside. "Good morning." He peered up at the special sections for the ruling houses of Cybertron. In attendance representing Nova Cronum, the emirate that housed the planetary capital of Cybertropolis and the most influential city, Iacon, were Acumenus and Sentinel Honorum, the latter being Zeta Prime's closest friend and his likely successor, possessing a physical stature and physique to make an imposing Prime. In the box next to that of House Honorum was Torenia Pax, a kind beauty that had come to be loved by the entire planet, and unfortunately the sole representative of the ruling house of the Torus Heights, the northern-most emirate of Cybertron. Arlon Pax, the eldest member and head of House Pax was rarely seen, he was brilliant, gracious and had proven to be a fierce warrior during the wars with the southern emirates, but his non-humanoid primary mode had led to ridicule and derision to such levels that the proud noble was rarely seen outside of their city of Polarus, though it was said he visited the polar city of Taenarus to inspect the Tartarun Gates and the Wardens that guarded it regularly.

Representing House Magnus of The Tagan Heights were Delta and Ultra, both massive robots were relatively young, but very promising and would undoubtedly bring glory to their house in the vorns to come. Next to their box was House Maximus of The Decagon, their representatives Pious and Helonix. Xaaron had wondered if the two slender bots would be in attendance, House Maximus was well known for their isolationist tendencies, but the funeral of a Prime was enough to draw them out to the planetary capital of Cybertropolis.

Next to House Maximus was House Ambus, Lords of Tyrest and seated in the city of Centurion, represented by the large and regal Dominus, and the diminutive Minimus, both bearing the distinctive facial adornments that appears almost like the facial hair of alien organic humanoids. In the box next to that of House Ambus was one for House Solis, ruling House of the emirate of Axiom, where the Lord of House Solis, Exponum, was with their youngest member, Elita, who had been brought online in the last birthquake. The young beauty possessed a wisdom and intensity that defied her young age, and would no doubt be a force to reckon with in the future. It appeared Elita had been leaning into the next booth and having a conversation with Lumina Trion prior to Xaaron's emergence with the body of Zeta Prime, the femme head of House Trion, and sole representative from Uraya's ruling House. Though an emirate deep into the south of Cybertron, splitting the polar region with Polyhex, Uraya had not only adopted the values and codes championed by the north, but according to legend, House Trion had been the inspiration for their system of laws and governance. It had been from House Trion that Primon, the first Prime had emerged roughly twelve million years before.

The box next to that of House Trion was for the ruling house of Ultrix, House Modus, and was represented by Branus, a cruel and arrogant leader that wished to have little to do with the other southern houses, and nothing to do with those in the north; though even he felt obligated to attend this event, but he clearly chose to come alone. The section to his left was for the mourning House Decimus of the emirate of Ankmor, the house of the late Prime and attended by Dynastus and Xaaron's fellow senator Rabattus, who by all appearances was taking Zeta's loss extremely hard. To their left was the box reserved for House Macht of Polyhex, the largest emirate on Cybertron and producer of energon, two facts which Militus, head of the house, used to exert his influence over the rest of the planet. Militus met Xaaron's gaze before darting his optics dismissively; ever the elitist. It had been from House Macht that the ancient warlord Galvatron had emerged, though there had long been speculation that Galvatron may not have actually emerged from the sacred pool of Kaon.

The box to House Macht's left was one reserved for House Torrent, the ruling house of Praxus. In attendance for House Torrent were Lightwave, Tidal Wave, Airwave, Shockwave and Soundwave. The house seated in the city of Harmonex was highly secretive, though word of Shockwave's astounding intellect had gotten out. The box to their left was one reserved for House Onyx, ruling house of Nyon, and attended by the head of the house, Ogrus. Another house producing an ancient warlord that had ravaged the planet, House Onyx still honored the memory and traditions of Deathsaurus by altering the shells of their members as well as their vassals into bestial modes. Xaaron finally twisted to take in the box of the final High House of Cybertron, House Nexus, rulers of Altihex. In attendance were Pathos Nexus and Starscream, a common born Cybertronian adopted into the house. Above them sat the senators that they chose to represent their emirates and more importantly, their interests, and above the senators sat the more influential and powerful common-born citizens. The common masses waited outside to mourn their fallen leader.

Xaaron gave them all a weak smile, rotating his gaze to encompass everyone before continuing. "We're all here to bid farewell to our leader and friend. A great and wise example of how all Cybertronians should strive to live their lives. He had flaws, but he acknowledged them and set forth to eliminate them. He strove to put the needs of his planet and his people above his own. He led the way for us; he kept us united through tumultuous times, through periods of doubt and fear. Zeta Prime rose in the wake of the disappearance of The Manifest, and the loss of Guardian Prime, a legend who cast a shadow that none of us could get out from under. Zeta accepted this, understood this, and persevered in spite of it. The mantle of Prime was never about glory for Zeta, it was never about being a legend; it was a duty that he reluctantly took up for the sake of us all. That is a debt every Cybertronian owes him; a debt that can never fully be repaid, but we can try. If we come together as a planet, if we choose a deserving leader and then give he or she the support and resources needed to persevere, we can recognize Zeta Prime's dream of bringing about a second Golden Age. That is the best way to honor our fallen leader, and exactly what he would want."

Megatron

The pick sailed through the dark and clanged hard against the mixture of metal and rock, sending large chunks spilling and small bits of shrapnel flying, revealing a glowing shard of energon embedded deep within the jagged rocks. The powerfully built miner dropped his axe and began digging at the rock, his fellow miners pulling away from the tasks that had been occupying them to watch as the miner set upon the stone and metal with his bare hands. Megatron smiled as he focused on freeing the precious element, they all watched him with envy and awe, marveling at his power, his mastery over nature, and the fact that he was always successful. These pathetic fools from Kaon had spat at him when Terminus had pulled him from the mines of Tarn to work here, just a few miles from Castle Macht. But in his first day he had proved to be worth their best ten.

Megatron's black hands had quickly cleared away nearly all the rock from the shard, one measuring from his knees to his head in length and the width of his waist at its widest. Megatron pulled the glowing stalagmite from its metal and stone housing and hoisted it over his shoulder, turning and giving his Kaonian coworkers a grin as he made his way toward the elevator leading to the surface. "Tarnian filth" the lone grumble was barely heard. Megatron merely laughed, most of these miners had either goaded him into fighting or flat out attacked him, usually several at once, and the results had all been the same. Megatron's courage and power had long been established, he had nothing more to prove.

As he exited the elevator he saw Terminus standing in the sunlight outside the cavern, monitoring the oncoming flow of small shards of precious energon. Megatron widened his grin and marched out into the light, his massive boulder of precious power, one large enough to fuel House Macht for a tenth of a vorn. Terminus noted the other miners around him ceasing everything they were doing and turned his gaze up to see what had drawn their attention. Upon seeing Megatron and his load he could do nothing more than laugh quietly and smile at his protégé. "Is that all you've got for me?"

Megatron laughed as he hoisted his cargo onto the conveyor belt. "It's been a slow morning."

"Clearly." Terminus replied with a smirk, but lost his good humor as he saw the hulking mine manager approaching. "Lose the grin lad, Straxus is coming."

"Slag Straxus." Megatron defiantly snapped.

"Silence boy, you'll be the greatest of us, but only if you shut your hole long enough to live that long." Terminus admonished as he stood and turned toward the approaching manager. "Hello Straxus, fine morning, isn't it?"

"That's Lord Straxus, I was given a title by Militus Macht himself, or have you forgotten?" The rotund robot snapped back.

"Of course, Lord Straxus, I apologize." Terminus bowed his head humbly, gritting his teeth as he watched Megatron maintaining his full impressive stature and locking optics with the low lord.

"What have we here?" Straxus mumbled as he walked over toward the giant chunk of energon that Megatron had mined. "Impressive. What machinery was required to extricate this behemoth?"

"I used my pick axe to discover it, then cleared the rock and metal around it with my hands and hauled it to the surface on my shoulder." Megatron matter of factly announced. "Though I suppose I did use the elevator to get me up here."

Straxus turned and glared at the miner from Tarn. "You hauled this up by hand? The radiation would burn…" the optics of the manager lowered to Megatron's right shoulder and observed the burn marks on it.

"It did…m'lord, but the pain merely tickled and the burns will be insignificant even before they heal." Megatron replied.

Straxus glared at the arrogant young miner. "And what have you done with your mine-issued equipment?"

Megatron's optics narrowed in confusion. "Mine-issued equ…you mean my pick axe?"

"Yes, your pick axe."

"It's back in the mine. I dropped it in my haste to get this topside." Megatron replied, almost challengingly.

Straxus chuckled ominously. "Well, normally such an act of disregard to company property would result in severe disciplinary action, but in light of the fact that this is your first offense, I'll simply take credit for your find and send you back to work." The mine manager glared at Megatron, challenging him to protest.

Before Megatron could say a word Terminus was pulling his arm back toward the mine. "That's more than fair my lord, I'll lead him down there personally to retrieve his axe and get him back to work."

Megatron allowed himself to be pulled, but was seriously contemplating pulling free and beating Straxus to death. "I've had enough of this." The gray miner grumbled as he and Terminus entered the cavern.

"Oh, ready to go back to Tarn, are you?" Terminus sarcastically snapped.

"You've been in my life in some fashion or another since my birth, though I haven't the slightest clue as to why." Megatron grumbled. "Always telling me I'm meant for great things, and yet, I'm forever at the mercy of the mediocre oblivious to their mediocrity!"

"Patience Megatron." Terminus advised as they made their way toward the elevator. "I've always sensed greatness from you, ever since I happened to be passing through a common hotspot in Tarn during a birthquake and watched as three protoforms took shape, and one of the three exuded an influence…a power, that allowed it to pull much of the sentio metallico from the other two and absorb it into itself, making it twice its original size. That had never been done before." The elevator door closed and they descended into the depths. "You are meant for greatness Megatron, you are meant to show that an entity's value should be derived from their abilities, not where they crawled out of the ground."

"I would be a better symbol of that in the battle pits than in the mines." Megatron grumbled.

"I don't know what you're referring to." Terminus grumbled, keeping his optics straight ahead.

"Don't." Megatron snarled. "I'm not an idiot; I'm fully aware of the gladiatorial circuit. I know that combatants earn five times what they do in the mines even when they don't win. And I know that I would win."

They reached the bottom and the doors opened, prompting Terminus to march out and Megatron to follow. "I'm protecting you, Megatron."

"Protecting me from what?" Megatron snapped, his anger causing some of the other miners to glance his way, but they immediately turned back to their business.

"You're not ready." Terminus declared as he reached down and plucked up Megatron's axe, tossing it to the much younger robot.

"Then train me!"

"It's not that." Terminus snapped back. "Your raw abilities and the street fighting techniques you picked up in Tarn would certainly put you at the top of the pack. But it's the scrutiny that you're not ready for. Bide your time Megatron."

"I'm done biding my time." Megatron growled.

Terminus just chuckled. "Stay in the mines Megatron, it's safer." Terminus turned and noted small rocks rolling down the walls of the cavern, then a noticeable shaking. "No."

The shaking started getting worse. "What is it, tectonic activity? A cyber-quake?" Megatron asked as the other miners started scrambling toward the elevator.

"No," Terminus yelled as he grabbed Megatron and pulled him against the wall, watching as hundreds of tons of rock began falling all around them, "it's a birthquake!"

Torenia Pax

It had been nearly five thousand vorns since she had last sailed upon The Mithril Sea, and high time she did it again. The boat was nothing special, certainly not worthy to set foot upon by most nobles, but Torenia was not most nobles, and while lacking in the fineries, The Garona was a stable craft manned by a competent crew. The trip from Cybertropolis to Iacon had been quick, having taken the fast transit tube, but a nice relaxed sea voyage from Iacon to the Torus Heights would be more than welcome after the tragic circumstances of her trip to Cybertropolis in the first place.

"Fancy seeing you here." Torenia turned to see Elita Solus standing on the wide bow of the boat up front, leaning against the rail smiling at her.

"Elita, I was hoping there'd be someone interesting to talk to on this voyage!" Torenia called out with a broad smile.

"Not sure how interesting the company I'd provide would be." Elita replied as she approached the older femme. "Most Cybertronians still consider me a protoform."

"Oh, the young can often times be so much more interesting than the old." Torenia answered back, and at seeing Elita's outstretched hand, pushed it away and embraced the younger noble. "I know we don't really know one another, but I want us to be close friends, and I'd rather our relationship begin with a hug."

While a little startled by the embrace, Elita reciprocated and smiled. "I'd like that too. I've wanted to meet you for a very long time," Torenia pulled back and gave her an odd look, which caused Elita to chuckle, "well, a very long time for me."

"My ladies," the captain's ill-maintained frame came into view, "we plan to shove off."

"Very good Captain." Torenia replied as she stepped away from Elita. The captain nodded and walked away, leaving the two femmes alone as the crew made preparations and pulled away from port. Torenia and Elita walked forward and peered over the edge of the boat at the liquid sea beneath them. "We've been a space faring species for millions of years, we're capable of super-luminous travel and have all the technological marvels one can dream of, yet traveling using nothing more technologically advanced than buoyancy is such a treat."

"I've heard that most organic worlds tend to have the majority of their surfaces covered by liquid, usually water." Elita commented as she gazed upon the fluid surface.

"Most, but not all." Torenia commented.

"Why have we ceased our large scale interstellar exploration?" Elita asked. "I know we've yet to find another world with naturally occurring energon, but there are many different ways to get around that obstacle."

Torenia shook her head sadly. "After the disappearance of the Manifest, it seemed that all our off-world aspirations dissipated."

"Too bad." The younger femme muttered. "I would love to meet and examine other forms of life."

"As would I." Torenia gasped as a whale broke though the surface of the water in the distance. "Though even for one as old as I am, the life on our world still presents countless wonders."

"Yeah, the mortal species are pretty interesting." Elita agreed, staring at the large ripples in the surface that the whale had left. "And spark-based life is able to watch the species evolve from what I hear. How long does it take for that to happen?"

"Depends on the species." Torenia explained. "Those that reach reproductive maturity quickly can have significant evolutionary changes over reasonably short periods of time, especially if it's selective breeding as opposed to natural selection. Those with longer maturation times can take far longer. Ironically, we'll be passing a great observation point for native non-spark life forms. Insula Avalonius has never produced a spark, but has given rise to many photosynthetic floras, and many species of fauna have found their way to the island as well. There is an energon deposit there, but it's very small and not worth a mining operation or the supplies needed to maintain it. It has, for the most part, remained devoid of the influence of spark-based life forms."

Elita smiled softly as she gazed over the horizon. "Think the captain will let us stop there for a visit?"

"Not likely." Torenia shrugged. "There's always a schedule to keep. But we will be able to catch a glimpse of it."

"Perhaps I'll be able to visit Polarus soon and squeeze details of life on Avalonius and alien worlds out of your polyhistor." Elita grinned as Torenia looked up at her quizzically. "Exponum told me of the genius you have holed away up there in your house."

"Ah, I see." Torenia smirked. "You will always be welcome in Polarus, though unfortunately A-Three is a bit of a recluse. I will try to persuade him to meet with you, but on the rare occasions we do have guests, he goes out of his way to make himself scarce. He frequently uses those times to head up to Taenarus for his periodic visits to the Tartarun Gates."

"Well perhaps I'll just have to follow him there." Elita mused. "Even if he is successful in avoiding me in Taenarus, I've always wanted an excuse to see the Gates."

The two chatted away getting to know one another as the hours passed, until Torenia pointed off into the distance. "Well, there it is, the untamed Insula Avalonius."

Elita turned and gazed at the gray, brown and green island jutting out of the sea. "It is pretty. Hyperious and many other cities in Axiom are filled with all forms of flora; it's so gorgeous and almost magical. I really do wish our species showed the mortals of our world more respect." The sea started to get choppier by the second; the boat started pitching one way and the next. "What's going on?"

Torenia was wide-opticed and worried. "I…I'm not sure."

"My ladies!" The femmes turned toward the captain. "Get inside and brace yourselves! It's a birthquake!"

"A birthquake?" Elita was stunned. It was her first since the one that had pushed her spark to the surface.

"I've never experienced one on the sea." Torenia muttered as she and Elita struggled against the pitching ship to get to the shelter of the cabin. The older femme wrapped her arm around Elita before looking up and seeing a wave towering over them come crashing down.

Prowl

He peered through the one-way window at the red suspect in the interrogation room. Average height, but otherwise a fairly exceptional specimen. Strong, fast, intelligent, and one of the most formidable brawlers that he and his officers had ever seen. It had taken seven officers and Prowl's direct involvement to finally subdue him. The yellow one was still at large, but they'd have him as well soon. As formidable as Prime had been, it was still possible that these two could have gotten the drop and assassinated him. But nobody kills a Prime and gets away with it. Prowl pulled himself away from the window and entered the room. "How this goes is entirely up to you, Sideswipe."

"Hey, that was a birthquake a few minutes ago, wasn't it?" Sideswipe smirked. "Shouldn't you and your thug patrol be at the non-noble hotspots ready to hand shovels, pitchforks and other implements of hard labor to the protoforms that emerge?"

"I would recommend dropping the smart-ass comments and just making with the confession." Prowl replied with no detectable emotion in his voice.

"You know, I've been doing a lot of reading lately," Sideswipe said, ignoring Prowl's threat "mostly old texts regarding the discoveries on extraterrestrial worlds. Did you know that some higher level organic humanoid species are dual gendered like us? One such species is from a planet called Nebulon. One thing observed there is that many fully mature females of the species use some weird water bottles to clean their nether regions. I believe a direct translation is…shower bag. Anyway, I bring it up because for some reason, you remind me of one of these shower bags."

Prowl just sat down at the chair on the other side of the table that Sideswipe was seated at, the suspect's hands chained to a ring on the table. "You're facing execution, and you choose to make stupid jokes?"

"Execution?" Sideswipe questioned, genuinely confused. "For promoting the idea that commoners are as good as nobles and the laws should be changed to reflect that?"

"There's nothing wrong with you having the idea, at least in this emirate, but your latest method of promoting it…" Prowl stood up in disgust, his anger seething its way to the surface. "I'm disgusted by you idealists. You adopt an idea, which in many cases is a just idea, but you then see no limits to what you'll do simply to be heard. Even innocents or those that may prove to be allies to you are simply fodder for your agenda."

Sideswipe peered at Prowl in confusion. "Uhm, OK, this is probably a mistake, but I'll fess up. Though frankly I'm having trouble seeing the big screen of the Imperial Amphitheater as either an innocent or ally."

Prowl snapped. He lunged over the table and slammed his fist into Sideswipe's jaw. Sideswipe's head rolled with the blow, but he instantly snapped back, head-butting Prowl hard before gripping the edge of the table in front of him and hoisted himself up and spun around, delivering a sidekick to Prowl's head that sent the white and black robot stumbling back and against the wall. An instant later the door had been thrown open and a stream of police officers were funneling in, all of them quickly grabbing, punching or kicking the red robot.

"Stop!" Prowl shouted. The police continued their beating. "STOP!" Prowl roared. They stopped and looked at him. "Sit him down and get out." They complied and a moment later Sideswipe and Prowl were alone again. Prowl sat down and looked intently into Sideswipe's optics. "You genuinely don't know why you're here, do you?"

"Uhhhh," a confused Sideswipe muttered "noooo? Uhm, by the way, what I said about the Amphith…"

"Shut up." Prowl ordered. "Evidence implicating you and your brother to the murder of Zeta Prime has surfaced."

"Murder of Zeta…" Prowl watched intently the red robot's reaction, using every instinct and every bit of training he had ever received to discern whether this Sideswipe was telling the truth. "No, wait, we do civil disobedience, not assassinations! You know that!"

Prowl shook his head, not liking the genuineness of Sideswipe's shock and denial. "I know nothing but the evidence."

"What evidence?" Sideswipe demanded.

Prowl considered not telling him, but decided the prisoner had a right to know. "All video recording equipment and most other sensory equipment was sabotaged and fed with falsified or looped data. The only equipment to have recorded anything was a finely tuned radiation detector. Its readings are pretty broad, and some of them can be used to identify spark radiation in the vicinity. In addition to the spark signatures of those of the deceased, we detected identical radiation levels from separate entities, indicating a split spark. That alone narrowed our search significantly, winnowed further by the individuals needing to be capable of killing six guards and a Prime with melee weapons; the vast majority of spark splits result in one or both individuals being extremely weakened and feeble, but not with you and Sunstreaker. So it really wasn't a surprise once we got a hold of you that your spark signature was a match."

Sideswipe stared into Prowl's optics for several moments, his initial look of shock slowly evolving into one of subdued confusion, slow realization, and finally cynical amusement. "How convenient."

"Convenient?"

"Yes, convenient." Sideswipe replied. "My brother and I, who are really not all that technologically adept, manage to subdue every sensory or security measure in place at the Cybertropolis Defense Command Center except the one that would be all but useless in identifying anyone on the planet other than my brother and I."

"Your lack of technological expertise could be overcome by having Blaster walk you through any necessary steps, as he did with the Imperial Amphetheater," Prowl responded, almost absently as he pondered everything, "but perhaps the…coincidence of the incriminating surviving evidence being seemingly…tailor made for your brother and you is unlikely enough to warrant looking at this from other angles."

"Other angles?" Sideswipe asked suspiciously. "Uhm, look, I don't like you Prowl, but even I have to acknowledge that you're a pretty smart guy; too smart to still think I killed Prime."

"What I think is based on what I know, and all I know is the evidence." Prowl growled back at Sideswipe. "Sometimes things that are seemingly too obvious appear that way because they're true."

"Cut the shit, Prowl, you know Streaker and I didn't do it!" Sideswipe snarled. "I have no doubt you can convince the Magistratus otherwise, but you'll never convince yourself."

"I only know the evid…look, I need you to shut up while I consider something!" Prowl grumbled as he stood up and paced around the floor on his side of the table. "The Autobots had a motivation to eliminate the Prime, but perhaps they weren't the only ones."

"There were many dozen we'd like to see eliminated before Zeta Decimus." Sideswipe countered. "Frankly, we really didn't have an issue with him. But that's all moot, as we don't kill."

"Whether desperation or ambition, every cause has a point where the taking of a life becomes justifiable to them." Prowl muttered as he fell deep into thought. "But you Autobots haven't seemed to be that desperate or ambitious yet; as you stated, you guys have been sticking to civil disobedience so far, and killing a Prime is a bit of a jump from there."

"Soooo?" Sideswipe pressed.

"Just shut up and let me think." Prowl growled as he thought quietly for several minutes. Thoughts that had been impossible had slowly become improbable, and were now becoming… "Damn it." Prowl whirled around, planted his hands on the table and looked the prisoner directly in the optics. "What do you know of an underground fighting circuit?"

"What?" Sideswipe was once again surprised. "Forgive me Prowl, I'm used to being interrogated over things I've actually done. Being genuinely innocent of all your charges has left me a bit unprepared with my answers."

"Do you know?" Prowl nearly yelled.

"Yeah, I've heard about them, Streaker has even suggested it would be a great way for him and me to blow off some steam and make some money." Sideswipe replied. "But we didn't actually join any of the tournaments, and the Autobots have nothing to do with the battle pits. It's mainly the southern emirates that hold these events."

Prowl considered something quietly before nodding and speaking further. "I had been investigating this fight club, but somehow my cover was blown."

"Shocking." Sideswipe quipped.

"It's possible those responsible for these gladiatorial tournaments sought Prime's death." Prowl mused. "If they knew who I was and what I was doing, they'd know that I answered to Sentinel Honorum, who answered to Zeta Prime." He peered intently at Sideswipe. "We have no knowledge of who is running these games, much less evidence that they had any hand in Prime's murder. But maybe there's a way for us to prove your innocence and get something on these guys…together. Find and enlist your brother; my officers and I can't get inside that circuit undetected, but a pair of hooligans will fit right in."

Terminus

It was dark. It was soundless. Nothing to see, nothing to hear, the air so thick with dust and debris that even smell was non-existent, but touch, that sense was in full effect. The pain of crushed legs was overwhelming, as was his equally crushed left forearm. He wasn't dead, but he knew that being this far down, this injured, he soon would be.

"Terminus." The voice was weaker than he'd ever heard it, but it was still sheer power.

"Huuhhh, here." Terminus replied. His optics were overcome by the sudden burst of light cutting through the cracks. It took a moment for Terminus's optics to make any sort of sense of the light bursting through the darkness, and with the dust, even once accustomed his optics had difficulty making anything out.

"Once I free you, will you be able to walk on your own?" Megatron's voice, back to its full degree of power, cut through the tiny cracks in the rocks separating them with the light he was no doubt providing.

"Nuuhh, no. Legs crushed."

"Then I'll carry you." Megatron roared as tons of rock started shifting around them. The pain in what was left of Terminus's legs increased exponentially, but as he started to cry out he felt the majority of the weight pressing down on him rising off. A moment later he felt a large, powerful hand gripping his upper left arm just below his shoulder. "Come."

"Wait." Terminus had to struggle to get his words out. "What of the others?"

Megaron paused. "If they live and can move of their own volition, they're welcome to follow us out." Terminus watched as this robot, one whose birth he witnessed, transcend into a force of nature and power his way through the insurmountable mountain of rock, metal and energon with only one free hand.

"You…you can't pummel your way to the surface, Megatron." Terminus watched as Megatron turned his head toward him, his red optics glowing brightly in the darkness, enough to barely reveal a smile etched on the arrogant powerhouse's face. Terminus smiled as well; Megatron had always loved a challenge, and had yet to face one he couldn't surmount.

Megatron continued forward, but stopped and called out like thunder. "If any of you Kaonian bastards are still alive and wish to remain that way, let me know your location now!" Weakened cries started coming out from all around them. Megatron grumbled before setting Terminus down and heading out toward the voices calling out for salvation.

Terminus watched as Megatron performed the impossible, moving chunks of metal and stone that were many times his own weight, effortlessly swatting away landslides of debris, and pulling out survivor after survivor. Seeing the physical magnificence acting on behalf of his fellow downtrodden furthered Terminus's long held belief that Megatron was meant for the same sort of greatness as Guardian Prime. His moving of the unmovable, his shrugging off injuries incurred to save others only made it clear that as Primon the Abdicator found the ultimate worthiness in Gallus Honorum, Terminus had found the same in that impossibly powerful protoform three birthquakes back. After less than an hour, Megatron stood over Terminus and eighteen other living souls, the lights on his frame and the blood-red optics glowing through the pitch. "Alright, now we ascend." Megatron turned and started battering away at the mountain blocking his way toward the elevator shaft. Terminus dragged himself along the ground after him, but was soon lifted up by several of the other miners as they all followed Megatron.

Megatron finally reached the elevator shaft, which as expected, was filled with debris. The continued obstacle only elicited a smile from Megatron. "Follow behind me, try to keep up, and if Terminus fails to reach the surface, his failure will be shared by all of you." With that Megatron started powering through the rocks, punching and tearing holes through the thick metal walls of the elevator shaft to push the debris through. It was ponderous and slow going, but after several hours they had reached surface level. All that stood between them and freedom was a third of a mile of stone and metal piled floor to ceiling.

"This will be more dangerous than the shaft." Terminus advised Megatron. "In the shaft you pulverized in the direction from which the danger would be coming. Here you will be powering through the rocks in front of you, while billions of tons are falling down from above."

Megatron nodded, and began examining the cavern for an answer. He found it in the form of a large mining cart. He hoisted the seventy-foot long cart effortlessly and twisted it upside down. "You and those carrying you will be under here, right behind me so that I can keep you from being crushed." Megatron then glared at the miners holding Terminus. "Keep up, and keep him safe." Megatron turned and marched quickly toward the wall keeping them in. "Let's go!"

Again the undertaking was slow moving, but as before Megatron proved to be up to the task, battering their tunnel to freedom. There were times when the weight of the stone and metal pushing down on the cart was far too much for the other survivors to endure, Megatron would turn, get under the cart himself, and push up, wedging through the impossibly heavy load, and then continuing on. More hours passed, many moments of doubt to be had for all, but the hulking Tarnian continued without pause, battering until his hands were shredded and continued battering. Megatron's fatigue was beyond apparent, to the point of physical shutdown, but still he persisted, only pausing for a few moments at a time. With a roar to focus his rage, Megatron threw one more punch, a punch that resulted in daylight breaking in through the newly made hole. Megatron paused just long enough for a grin. "Time to make our exit." With one hand Megatron gripped the lip of the cart, then lowered his other shoulder and powered through the last wall of rock.

In an instant all the surviving miners barreled though the final wall of rock and metal, collapsing on the ground and into the light. Terminus's optics struggled against the light, but he saw Megatron tossing the cart away and turning upward, knowing what was to happen. Looking up at the still standing Megatron, Terminus's optics cleared enough to look beyond and above him, at the tumbling boulders that were starting to fall down upon them all. Though well aware of Megatron's greatness, what Terminus was witnessing now was an absolute impossibility. Megatron turned, and using speed, agility and power that Terminus had never witnessed before, watched as the Tarnian battered every falling boulder away, shattering most, and keeping all of the survivors safe of anything beyond spraying pebbles and debris. "MOVE!" Megatron roared as he fought off the landslide.

Despite Megatron's earlier orders, the other miners abandoned Terminus as they got over their panic and scrambled away. Megatron glanced down and grimaced as he saw Terminus still in peril. "Slagging cowards!" With that, Megatron leaned down and grabbed Terminus by the upper arm with the two remaining fingers and thumb on his left hand before lunging out of the way of a vast boulder, diving and sprinting, rolling and utilizing speed and agility that few if any other Cybertronians possessed, Megatron and Terminus evaded the avalanche until finally they reached a point where the rockslide stopped.

Megatron released Terminus and collapsed to the ground. Terminus looked into his young protégé's optics and smiled, a smile that was returned by Megatron. The old robot's gaze soon drifted beyond Megatron's head, where he saw Militus Macht standing next to Straxus. Terror shot through Terminus as he saw the intense look on Militus's face. He had struggled to keep Megatron's combat prowess from the notice of the House of Macht, going so far as to relocate him to the mines of Kaon, but all his struggles had proved fruitless. Megatron noticed Terminus's diverted attention, and turned his body to look toward Militus as well. The noble warlord's optics glowed brightly as he considered the recent display of Megatron's awesome power.

Elita Solus

It took some internal adjustments that Elita had never performed before, but she eventually managed to adjust her optical settings to project light to help her cut through the murky depths of the Mithril Sea's bottom. What was revealed was wondrous. Cybertron was the only planet that they'd come across that was the source of both spark-based life and abiogenesis, and aside from a few notable exceptions, the species springing from the two sources of life had coexisted for countless eons. Of course, that didn't stop a forty-foot organic shark that had been drawn to the lights from setting upon her. The beast was gigantic and extremely powerful, but was made of flesh and cartilage, and while able to grasp and pull Elita away in its jaws, a few strikes from her metal fists punctured its flesh and shatter some cartilage, causing it to release her and dart off through the depths.

Elita sank back to the bottom, assessed the damage that the shark had caused her and determined it to be inconsequential, and began peering through the muck once more. She wasn't sure which direction she should go, but she was sure that if Exponum, who had tried to dissuade her from this foolish journey, ever found out about her situation he would never let her live it down. She could likely contact him for help, but only as a last resort. Elita would exhaust every opportunity to get out of this predicament on her own steam before contacting the One, or leader, of House Solis. Unfortunately, she had no idea of what the protocol for this sort of situation was. An odd ping caught her off guard, but the sound was followed by a series of repeating pings. She studied the code diligently before realizing what it was. The Mahpop Code, an archaic maritime numeric code that Exponum had instructed her on many years before, one that she fortunately still remembered well enough to decode, though even if she didn't it wasn't hard for her to triangulate the source of the signal. But she was pretty certain that the message being conveyed was something along the lines of 'passengers and crew of the Garona, rendezvous on the northern shore of Avalonius'. The coordinates were a bit tougher to decipher, but as she'd already considered doing, she triangulated the source of the broadcast.

An hour and a half later Elita's head cut through the surface of the sea, and with only a few more seconds of trudging she was on dry land. Several members of the crew gawked at her as she approached the haphazard assemblage of what little they were able to salvage from the ship, and the Captain finally addressed her. "Good to see you m'lady, seeing as you appear to be undamaged, I might actually manage to avoid some prison time."

"We were caught up in a birthquake, there was nothing for you to have done differently." Elita assured the disheveled mariner.

"True, but when a commoner captain loses or damages a noble passenger, excuses become meaningless." The captain replied.

"Well, you have nothing to fear in regards to this noble passenger." Elita smiled. "Has Torenia Pax resurfaced?"

"Aye, she made it to shore nearly an hour ago." The captain replied. "Headed up into the mountains, said she was going to bring back some energon."

"I'll go see if she needs some help." Elita responded, looking up toward the lush jungle. "Can you point me in the direction of this energon deposit?" The captain provided the young noble with the directions as best as he could remember from stories of other mariners who claimed to have visited the island, and Elita set off to find Torenia. The foliage was thick and though predominantly green, there were vibrant colors of all shades mixed throughout the jungle. It appeared that the life forms that were making a home of the island were relatively small, and very timid; Elita only occasionally caught sight or sound of the beasts scurrying about.

The cavern that supposedly had the vein of energon running through it was up ahead half a mile, but Elita's attention was drawn to a closer, smaller cave off to her right. There was an odd green glow flickering on the rock and metal inner wall of the cave, one that Elita couldn't help but be drawn to. As she approached the mouth of the cavern she could hear gentle, feminine whispering from within, and realized that despite the lowered tone it was a voice that she recognized. "Torenia?"

"Oh good, it's you." Torenia's voice echoed back from within. Elita entered the cave and made her way in, following the pulsing, but fading green light. The green pulsing faded completely as Elita came upon Torenia Pax kneeling over a blob of metal that seemed almost molten and liquid, though it failed to spread as a liquid does and given the comfort Torenia possessed touching it, the level of heat it generated was far less than that of molten metal. "I hope that whatever bond we've developed is strong enough for me to ask an impossible favor of you, Elita."

Elita scrutinized the shape and noted that it was gradually taking on a humanoid appearance, and that chunks of metal were dislodging from the floor and cave walls and being sucked into the new form. "What is…" she then watched as Tornenia lifted one part of the shape, one that appeared almost head-like. "Primus, is this a protoform?"

"Yes." Tornenia replied soothingly as she gazed lovingly into the slowly forming face of the newborn in her arms.

"But…but there's no spark life on this rock, there's no sentio metallico." Elita commented, watching in awe as the protoform continued to take shape, incorporating more metal drawn from the cavern.

"You're right, there's none." Torenia replied. "I was drawn to the spark, and mourned upon realizing that there would be no way to get it to a breeding pool soon enough. It would die, and there was nothing I could do for it but watch." Torenia looked up and smiled. "And then it started using the metals from the cavern."

Elita shook her head in confusion. "But metals can't be used to form a protoform."

"A-Three once told me that a strong enough spark could make a body of nearly anything." Torenia looked back down on the newborn.

"Strong enough spark?" Elita commented, shifting her gaze from the protoform to the other femme. "Does that have anything to do with the green glow I saw coming in here?"

Torenia nodded. "That is related to the favor I mentioned as you entered." She turned her head back up and gazed imploringly into Elita's optics. "This island is still technically Iacon. Even without knowledge of his spark, the sheer size and build," Tornenia nodded to the form for Elita to take note, and the femme from Hyperious saw the overall physique taking shape, the impressive stature, the narrow waist, the massive chest and broad shoulders, "would cause the Honorums to place him immediately in the mines."

"Place him in the mines?" Elita was shocked. "It's Nova Cronum, not Polyhex. They don't force anyone to do what they don't want to do."

"No, the emirate of Nova Cronum is not nearly as bad as Polyhex, nor is its energon production as lucrative. The Honorums have been trying to catch up to the Machts for eons in that regard, and while they likely have similar deposits of the element, their ethics in regard to the workforce have traditionally kept them from similar levels of success in their mines. But they've been slowly catching up, and while I cannot prove it, I fear it may be due to the loosening of these ethics." Torenia stroked the protoform's head gently. "I am unwilling to take the chance with this one. So I ask you, Elita Solus of Axiom, will you please tell the captain and his crew that I have found my own way off of this island, and tell no one of what you have seen in this cave?"

"I…I will. Of course, but I assure you that all this isn't necessary." Elita replied.

"Perhaps you're right, but I'd rather play this safe." Torenia smiled, relief clearly etched on her face. "And I've grown a little attached to this little guy." Elita looked back down and chuckled at the protoform. Torenia looked down and nodded. "Well, not so little."

"So what will you do, take him back to Polarus and raise him there?" Elita asked.

"Yes." Torenia gazed deeply into the indentations where the protoform's optics would take shape. "I will name him Orion."


	2. Chapter 2

Militus Macht

He would have to have a word with Terminus. Technically his vassal hadn't lied about this Tarnian, but any fool could see that his value as a gladiator vastly outweighed his value as a miner. Terminus had been hiding the young robot's potential; fortunately this Megatron had no problem showing what he could do. Militus had run him through the gamut of testing, both physical and mental, and the physical results were astounding, the highest scores he'd ever seen in an unmodified frame. Intellectually he had proven to be roughly average, which was more than sufficient for what Militus had planned for him. He gazed over at the Tarnian in question, the both of them walking toward the rundown structure on the outskirts of Kaon. "Who gave you your name?"

"Terminus." The youth replied. The tone wasn't insolent, but it seemed to lack the appropriate respect that should be present when a commoner addressed the head of the ruling House of Polyhex, but commoners with such a high degree of talent and potential deserved far more leeway than the useless masses of resource consumers.

"Are you aware of what the suffix signifies?" Militus asked.

"I'm not sure." Megatron replied. "It's reasonably common."

"Yes, but only in Polyhex; a case of commoners in this emirate aspiring to some form of nobility." Militus replied. "It's derived from the ancient warlord Galvatron. History records that he was of House Macht, but in fact he was born a commoner. My House offered him membership after the militia he created had conducted successful incursions into Altihex, Uraya and Nyon, and Jugatus Macht, head of the House at that time, felt it would be better to make him a member before Galvatron considered turning his might inward. As a member of House Macht, his conquest expanded throughout the majority of the planet, only coming to an end once Gallus Honorum led his forces through The Tagan Heights, into Polyhex, captured Kolkular where Galvatron had left the Matrix he had pulled out of Prime Nova's corpse as a trophy, and with the grace of the Matrix, Gallus became Guardian Prime and gradually battled Galvatron's forces to a standstill." Militus smiled as the two entered the large and seemingly dilapidated gymnasium. "Of course, apart from Galvatron's common beginnings, even the most uneducated of Polyhexians is aware of this. Galvatron's origins are known to many throughout the emirate, and to a lesser degree throughout other parts of the planet, and the commoners here cling to the pride they have in their fellow common born Polyhexian's accomplishments, and have used his suffix as a symbol of the potential greatness of Polyhexian commoners."

Megatron nodded as he glanced throughout the vast indoor arena laid out in front of him, noting the roughly two dozen warriors sparring and training with one another. "I have been accused of arrogance on more than one occasion, but I assure you, I had no part in selecting my name."

"Yes, you mentioned that." Militus answered as they approached a lean but powerful robot of dark gray, green, orange and purple coloration. "Terminus obviously had high expectations for you." The leader of House Macht beckoned the warrior to approach them. "More often than not those with the suffix Tron chose their names themselves. Banzaitron here is one such individual. Like most that chose to add the suffix to their name, Banzaitron had grand aspirations. Aspirations that led him to a life of crime, which resulted in me removing his transformation cog. But despite the loss of his alternate mode, he proved to be one of the most skilled warriors I've ever seen." Militus smacked Megatron hard in the back, almost pushing him toward the other warrior. "And he's going to be your first teacher."

Banzaitron peered Megatron up and down. "Big, and undoubtedly strong and durable, but he looks like a simple laborer."

Militus laughed. "Not a bad assessment, but his earliest years were spent on the streets of Tarn where he developed a reputation as one of the most dangerous brawlers in the entire city." He looked Megatron over much as Banzaitron had done, and like with Banzaitron, the envy of Megatron's physical gifts was well hidden. "Exceptional potential; in dire need of a great deal of polishing."

"Ah, a street fighter, well then, let's get to work." Banzaitron nodded, and Militus backed away. Megatron looked to Militus, clearly unsure of what was expected of him, and failed to see Banzaitron's attack. The powerful crescent kick whipped through the air and connected with the side of Megatron's head, sending the miner stumbling back and falling to one knee. He turned and looked up just as Banzaitron's follow-up left roundhouse smashed his nose. Megatron's head dropped down, but he started back up, only to have a right snap-kick catch him under his left optic and knock him onto his back. Banzaitron howled with laughter at his downed opponent. "Where did you find this lump, Lord Macht?"

Megatron sprung back to his feet and started marching toward Banzaitron, fury blazing out of his optics. "We're still at work, Banzaitron." Megatron threw an aching right punch, followed by a left uppercut, both of which Banzaitron was able to dodge and parry, and retaliated with a knee that landed against Megatron's abdomen while simultaneously slamming an elbow to Megatron's chin. Despite the power of the dual strike combination, Megatron was completely un-phased and delivered a head-butt to Banzaitron's nose that sent the warrior stumbling back. Before being able to get his bearings, Banzaitron was laid out by a left roundhouse. The martial artist's optics flickered a couple of times before everything cleared up to reveal Megatron standing over him with an arrogant grin on his face.

"OK, the kid has potential." Banzaitron nodded as he extended his hand for Megatron to help him up.

Orion

He watched nervously as all the strangers they passed smiled at Torenia, some bowing slightly, and some stopping to greet her. All that passed stared at him questioningly, those few that stopped to speak asked about him, to which Torenia simply stated his name and explained that he was a newborn spawned in the recent birthquake, found in an otherwise empty field just inside of The Torus Heights border with Nova Cronum. Orion was aware of very little about the world, but even the newborn was able to sense that Torenia was hiding something when describing his origins. But as both instinct and Torenia had instructed, he remained quiet, observing all and awaiting enough knowledge to provide context for these early observations. He merely smiled at the newcomers when they addressed him, those with a feminine form like Torenia's commented on how handsome he was, some giving Torenia a slightly accusing look before saying their good-byes.

The two continued on through the courtyard, the air chilly and the semi-solid precipitation Torenia had told him was called snow falling all around them, providing a thin layer of the substance on the ground beneath them. Ahead of them lay their destination, an enormous metal structure that was easily twenty times larger than any of the other structures that they had passed since disembarking from the barge that Seaspray, a small boat that turned into a small robot, had hauled to shore. Orion's first glimpses had been of looking up at the sky, and then Torenia's face while on the deck of that barge, one filled with supplies. Upon reaching land, he had watched Torenia walk off to talk with Seaspray, and Orion had watched as the smaller robot nodded and bowed to Torenia, seemingly assuring her of something before heading back into the sea and transforming.

Torenia had led him by foot for the first day. The first mile was very difficult; Orion's new legs were very wobbly, and during that time Torenia had jacked a cord from her wrist into his neck to transfer data regarding their language, and very little else. But after several minutes everything changed. His body quickly started to harden, to strengthen; the overwhelming weight of his own frame quickly became as light as pebbles compared to how it had been just minutes before. Torenia had told him that was normal, that the spark that had given him life had devoted most of its existence so far to forming his internal mechanisms, but that after a few days that was almost complete, and the spark was now devoting itself to developing his outer shell and robotic musculature. But though she had said it was a normal process, even Torenia was stunned at how light and quick his movements had become, at how easily he removed the few obstacles that were in their path. Orion had considered that perhaps he wasn't normal, that perhaps there was something special about him, but he disregarded such thoughts; despite his youth, even he knew that everyone thought of themselves as special. Orion was just like everyone else.

They had eventually made it to a small village, where they were able to gain transport, one that had gotten them to Polarus in a matter of a few hours, during which time Torenia had instructed Orion to say nothing about his first days, especially anything having to do with him being on the sea. She stressed the importance of this to him most earnestly, though she had refused to explain why it was important. Perhaps she would reveal this to him later, when she too felt that he had acquired enough knowledge to provide some semblance of context.

They finally reached the massive edifice, a structure as large as a small city, one that she had called Tyger Pax and had informed him that had been her home, and with the permission of its lord, his home as well. They marched through dark hallway after dark hallway, through countless rooms of all sizes, passing more robots, these individuals displaying delight and affection at seeing Torenia that was beyond genuine, as was her joy at seeing them. There were stout warriors who were likely guards, and other robots of every size and form that seemed to be attending to the castle's needs in some way or another, and all beamed him welcoming smiles that were apparent even if their faces possessed plates over their mouths. But though everyone seemed to be friends, the greetings were kept short so that Torenia and Orion could continue on toward their destination, a meeting with the lord of the House and sovereign of the emirate, Arlon Pax.

It took them a few more minutes, but they were soon entering a vast chamber with an elevated platform on the far end, and on that platform were several large chairs, and in the middle was a single entity table with slats on either side, and sitting at the table, between the slats, was a large, quadruped with a long snout, upright ears and two deeply set orange optics, its metal a dark gray with shades of blue throughout. A broad smile stretched over its bestial face upon seeing Torenia approaching. "My dear Torenia, it is wondrous to see you again. We had received word from a sea captain based in Iacon that you had been aboard his ship when it sunk, that he had seen you on Insula Avalonus when you disappeared into the jungle, never returning. He claimed that Elita Solus had told him that you had found another way off the island, which she confirmed when I contacted her directly, though her assurances did little to alleviate the worry that was felt by all Polarus."

"I am sorry to have caused such concern; I just felt like setting out on my own, and after the shipwreck, felt I needed to get back with the aid of an old friend, someone I could trust." Torenia replied.

"And who might that have been?" Arlon asked, annoyance starting to show.

"Seaspray." Torenia answered.

"If you were able to contact Seaspray, then you'd have been able to contact us." Arlon snapped, his annoyance more noticeable.

"I was hoping to be back in Polarus before word of the shipwreck reached you." Torenia responded. "It was poor judgment, I admit."

Arlon Pax looked her over before turning his appraising optics toward Orion. "And who is this?"

Orion nodded nervously, but remained silent as Torenia had instructed him earlier and allowed her to answer on his behalf. Instead he continued to study Arlon and the details surrounding the platform, in particular the words made up of shiny yellow metal over the dais that he was perched upon. The download that Tornenia had provided him was strictly for their verbal language, but on the trip they had come across numerous signs, which she had read to him when he asked what they were, and on the trip to Polarus she had taught him their alphabet and the sounds they made. Using his rudimentary understanding of the written language, he pieced together the words above Arlon as 'Freedom is the right of all sentient beings'. Orion considered these words as Torenia addressed Arlon.

"This is Orion, a newborn I came across just inside our borders, near the Mithril Sea." Torenia answered, a slight bit of nervousness in her voice. "I chose to bring him here, and with your permission, I would like to find him a place here, to provide him with an education, and to allow him the freedom to choose his path in life."

Arlon peered intently at the two of them. "I would be happy to provide him shelter and our fullest hospitality for a short while, but what you propose, an upbringing within Tyger Pax and access to all of our resources, is a right reserved for those emerging from the Sacred Pool of Tyger Pax." The lord of House Pax then looked directly at Orion. "I bid you welcome, and wish you the greatest of fortune Orion, but I cannot provide you a home here long term."

"Where did you say he emerged?" Another voice interrupted their conversation. Orion turned to the side of the large room where the voice had originated, and watched as a tall, slender masculine robot that had odd adornments on his upper lip and chin approached the center of the chamber, meeting Orion's inquisitive and appraising stare with one of his own.

Torenia smiled at seeing the new robot enter. "Greetings A-Three, it is good to see you again."

"As it is to see you, Lady Torenia." A-Three replied. "But I am curious as to where this youth originated from."

"I found him shortly after arriving on the shores of Burthov, in a field north of that city." Torenia responded, glancing nervously at Orion, apparently hoping he would remain quiet. He had been aware as they disembarked prior to Seaspray's arriving at the Port of Burthov, and she knew that he knew she was lying to these robots, but he was unaware as to why.

"I'm not aware of any hot spots in that region, or anything more than trace amounts of elements that could be used as sentio metallico." A-Three answered, confused.

Torenia shrugged. "I don't know what to tell you, A-Three, I was passing by and found a protoform."

A-Three studied her face for a moment more before turning his scrutiny toward Orion. After several tense seconds of study, A-Three called out to Arlon, keeping his optics locked on Orion as he did so. "My lord, if it pleases you, I would like to provide tutelage to this youth in my free time, or if permissible, in conjunction with the Pax newborn." A-Three turned to Torenia, well aware of the look of confusion coming over her face. "He emerged from the Sacred Pool in the recent pulse." He turned back to Arlon. "I understand if this is unacceptable to you and wish me to train him in my off hours and to do so off the premises of Tyger Pax, but I feel Roller and Orion could be of assistance to one another."

Arlon Pax peered at his old friend for several moments before answering. "If that is your will, A-Three, you are free to do so provided your duties to House Pax come first."

"Of course, my lord." A-Three turned to him and replied.

Sunstreaker

Every head turned as the two entered the large, dimly-lit tavern, though after a quick sizing up of the pair all optics turned back to their business; at least the optics belonging to those bearing masculine forms. The few femmes in the filthy, unseemly expanse continued staring at the newcomers, particularly the yellow, slightly more handsome and far more polished robot. Well, Sunstreaker smiled as he thought, perhaps more than just slightly more handsome. Sideswipe was undoubtedly a very good looking bot, femmes were always eager to gain his attention, at least until Sunstreaker entered the room and stole the optics and attention from his sibling. But they weren't here to pick up femmes, no, they were here for their other favorite pastime; they were here to pick a fight. "You know, I really wouldn't mind doing this if we weren't doing it for that boot-licking asshat Prowl."

"No choice, we've been framed for murdering the Prime, this is our only chance to clear our names." The red sibling replied as the two took seats in the center of the room. "We agreed this was a win-win; we get to make lots of money doing what we love, Prowl gets to find the real killer, or at least some poor shlub that isn't us to pin the assassination on, and then we all go our separate ways."

"You're an idiot, Swipe." Sunstreaker snarled as he nodded to a tavern-femme who had been receiving a great deal of attention from a large, imposing blue and yellow masculine robot and flashed two fingers, a grin and a flicker of his right optic. He smiled at seeing her scamper away from the cone-headed brute to attend to their order, and the look of fury coming over the abandoned goon and the hate-filled glare the goon sent the brothers. The bait had been laid, now it was just letting a scenario that had played out dozens of times before occur once again, this time in the service of their new long term objective. "Once we've gone our separate way, every crook, thug and near-do-well is going to be out to pull our sparks out through our tailpipes. We've spent days hunting down this particular scumbag, this very well connected scumbag, use him to get into this fight circuit, get to know the players, all the players, and then betray every last one of them. I'd almost rather a clean execution by Sentinel Honorum's hand than the messy torture-fest the gladiators and gangsters would give us."

"Yeah, you'd opt for a clean death while shackled over a brawl to the finish." Sideswipe smirked. "Besides, you won't be betraying anyone. Hell, you don't even need to be here, you just want in because you're a belligerent prick looking to rearrange the parts of other fighters. I'm the one that made the deal with Prowl; I'm the one that's going to be doing the informing and betraying."

"Yeah, like these degenerates won't know I'm with you in all endeavors." Sunstreaker grumbled. "I may think you're a jackass and consider what you're making us do insane, but I AM with you."

"Shut your hole and get into character," the red and black Autobot snapped as he smiled at the approaching waitress carrying two large vials of engex toward their table, "I've spotted the well connected scumbag over behind the bar."

Sunstreaker extended his wrist toward the femme as she placed the vials in front of the brothers and a panel slid open revealing a small screen. The tavern worker pulled a small device out and held it over the screen, scanning and transferring the cost of the engex. "Hey gorgeous." Sunstreaker peered up and grinned broadly at the femme, whose optics shone brightly in response to the attention. "Scan it again, you'll find a tip as well as my personal communication signal code."

"Can I get one without the other?" The waitress asked slyly.

"Sure, but I'd feel bad if you didn't accept the tip." Sunstreaker expanded his grin. The waitress scanned again, and Sunstreaker sensed that both the tip and his contact information were being pulled. "Keep 'em coming, even if my brother has trouble keeping up with me."

"Brother?" The femme asked, leaning against the table.

"Or so we're told." Sideswipe chimed in. "It's not like either of us were in any condition to be witnesses to the event."

"I know what we were told," Sunstreaker remarked, "but I'm pretty sure what really happened was that the green spark that formed my protoform sensed the generous nature of my newly forming brain module and branched apart to give this simple red mook some life."

The barmaid laughed. "Ah, yet another patron trying to impress me by claiming to have a green spark."

"No, I don't have one, I had one, and it split, leaving me with a common blue one." Sunstreaker corrected her with another smile.

"Green sparks are a myth." Sideswipe chimed in. "And even if they weren't, neither of us ever had one. Those that saw our birth mentioned nothing of the color green," the red sibling grinned at his brother "but I did hear tell of it being the spark in my protoform that split to give birth to this shiny shit-talker."

"Bah, that claim is the very epitome of shit-talking." Sunstreaker chuckled before looking back up at the femme. "But we are born of the same branched spark."

"I thought branched sparks resulted in weak robots." The barmaid commented with a playful grin.

Sunstreaker smirked. "We're the exceptions. I'd love to show you how strong I am."

"For the record, I'm stronger." Sideswipe quipped, earning him a glare from his brother.

The femme gave an appraising look over both robots. "There's definitely a resemblance," she reached over and brushed her hand against one of Sunstreaker's helm crests, "though there are plenty of distinctions as well."

"What the slag are you doing?" The roar erupted from the other end of the bar, just as Sunstreaker knew it would. He had been assuming it would wait until he had gotten the femme to sit in his lap, but apparently that would not be necessary. The large blue and yellow brute that the barmaid had been doting on prior to their entry rose from his chair, knocking it over in the process, and started marching toward the group.

"Is he watching?" Sunstreaker asked as he eyed the oncoming robot.

"Everyone is watching." Sideswipe replied, smiling as he watched Sunstreaker casually rise to his feet.

"Good." Sunstreaker smiled broadly.

"Don't, he's much bigger than you and he fights for a living." The barmaid warned Sunstreaker urgently.

"I know," Sunstreaker replied, gently pushing her toward Sideswipe, who took her and walked her away from the two soon to be combatants, "he's perfect."

"You got something to say, bitch?" The large but sleek robot bellowed a moment before lunging at the yellow newcomer. Sunstreaker twisted, and while taking the brunt of the force, he was able to flip the assailant over and onto the table, which toppled, sending him onto the filthy floor.

"All I have to say is reserved for your femme." Sunstreaker snapped, his grin still in place. "Primarily tips on how to look you in the optic and try to assure you that you're still adequate without laughing."

The big blue robot leapt to his feet and started for Sunstreaker once again. 'Predictable idiot' Sunstreaker thought as his left fist slammed into the oncoming face followed by his right to the side of his cone-head that sent the aggressor stumbling to the side. Sunstreaker lost his smile and gritted his teeth at seeing Sideswipe grin. Sunstreaker was the better warrior, but Sideswipe's earlier comment had been accurate, he was the physically stronger of the two. A roundhouse from Sideswipe would have put this guy on the floor, if not ended the fight, and the red shit would be sure to remind him of this later.

But Swipe lacked the skill and grace of Sunstreaker, and the yellow brother set out to demonstrate this as he set upon the belligerent jackass he was making an example of. Thirty seconds and six loud cracks later the blue and yellow robot's right arm was hanging uselessly at his side as he rose to his feet, viscous liquids leaking from several wounds on his face and body, his optics now wide with fear as he stared at the virtually unblemished yellow robot smiling evilly at him.

"Ramjet, Thrust; hold this prick down!" The blue robot roared over the commotion of the bar. Two similarly sized and shaped robots emerged from the crowd, one white with red, and the other red with black, both with cones over their heads.

Sunsteaker smiled broadly at the newcomers. "Swipe?" A red flash tore into the two would-be intruders. Sunstreaker watched his brother dismantle the pair, he was highly skilled, Sunstreaker was loathe to admit the fact that Sideswipe was almost as skilled as he was, but the jock liked to barrel in and rely on his athleticism and instinct more than his knowhow; and in the vast majority of circumstances, his athleticism and instinct were more than enough. This time was no exception, as in moments Sideswipe was mounted on the one called Ramjet pounding on his face, while the one called Thrust was laying several yards away, nursing a heavily dented nose and crawling away from the fight terrified.

"Enough!" Sunstreaker grinned, mission accomplished. Everyone turned toward where the yell had rung out from, at the mid-sized but bulky tan and purple robot approaching the brawlers. The sea of spectators parted to make way for him as he headed straight for the brothers, who had come to stand next to one another. "Well boys, looks like this is what you wanted. I wonder if anyone ever warned you of the dangers of getting what you wanted."

"We never were ones to pay warnings much heed." Sideswipe smirked as he stood up, stepping on Ramjet as he did so. "And it wasn't what I wanted; I just wanted a couple drinks. It's my brother that's into stealing femmes and picking fights."

"Enough of the bullshit." The tan and purple robot snapped. "I know you boys know who I am, and I know an audition when I see one. Congratulations, you've impressed me. But the audition's over, time to start acting like professionals and take the next step, or you can keep playing dumb and I'll let you, leaving you to this crowd who would love to see you dead for what you've done to their friends and their bar. You see, they don't like outsiders, and they'd like nothing more than to make the two of you disappear. But if you're with me, well, they'll leave you be." The robot smiled. "So tell me boys, are you with me?"

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker looked at one another and displayed their well rehearsed looks of anxiousness. "Yeah…sure, sure we're with you." Sideswipe stammered.

"Then come with me boys." The robot turned and marched toward the back of the bar, the twins following him.

"Later ladies." Sunstreaker quietly taunted the beaten patrons.

Moments later they were entering a stock room with a table and four chairs around it, the remains of an abandoned game of Sheol's Bounty, a very little known but ancient card game of off-world origin using tablets adorned with alien symbols. "Have a seat, boys." The blocky robot waved his hand over the two closest chairs to the door as he rounded the table and plopped himself down on the far end. "Do you know Governor Riker?"

Sideswipe shrugged and replied sarcastically as his brother simply remained stone-faced. "Yeah, sure, he was the Emir of Luna 1."

The other robot ignored the ridiculous reply and continued. "Riker said, 'I'm a servant of the people. You give me a slagging bullhorn and I'll get something the people want out of it.'"

"Well I tell you, Swindle, these people," Sunstreaker leaned forward and flicked his thumb between Sideswipe and himself, "would love to pull some slagging credits out of that bullhorn of his."

Swindle groaned. "A couple of smart asses, that's unfortunate. But indulge me if you will. The point I'm trying to make with Governor Riker is, an individual could look at anything and make something of it. So I look at you two boys, and wonder what I could use you for."

"I think we've demonstrated what you could use us for." Sideswipe replied, leaning back and crossing his arms.

"Oh, and what's that?" Swindle replied, his optics rolling across the far wall of the room.

"What the slag are we talking about here?" Sunstreaker growled. "I distinctly heard 'enough of the bullshit' coming out of your mouth."

Swindle returned his gaze to the brothers, locking onto one pair of optics before moving to the next pair. "I'm curious as to what two boys from Iacon are doing in this neighborhood. At the risk of slandering my own environment, it almost saddens me to see two young Cybertronians with a fair bit of potential slumming around the seediest part of Petrex looking to earn a few credits taking beatings. Yeah, I know you lads are in with that anti-nobility group, but there's a sense if idealism with that, all you punks really do is victimless graffiti. That's a minor slip; this, this is a full fledge descent that ends up with snuffed sparks." Swindle stood up and nodded toward the door, prompting the brothers to turn and witness four hulking goons entering. "And if that's truly what we have here, then Primus bless, I will do what I can to help you boys down your chosen path. Buuuttt," the large robots set upon Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, pinning them in their chairs, "I can't help but wonder if that prick Prowl finally grew the bearings to offer you punks a deal to pull off something like this."

"Are you out of your slagging mind?" Sideswipe growled.

"I'm gonna pull your innards out and feed them to a cyberfox!" Sunstreaker roared.

"We slagging hate that Honorum attack dog!" Sideswipe snapped.

"Yeah, it certainly seems that way, but one can't be too careful." Swindle stood up and studied the brothers closely before looking up at his goons. "The pretty one." He noted a couple looks of confusion. "Yellow!"

With that they pulled Sunstreaker's left arm out away from his body. "Stop!" Sideswipe yelled impotently. Sunstreaker struggled, but the two massive robots were able to hold him prone despite his formidable combat skills. Swindle walked over and pried out one of his fingers and pulled out a hand-held cutting tool from a compartment in his side. "Stop, we're not slaggin' snitches!"

"We'll know one way or another in a few moments." Swindle replied before using the tool to clamp down on Sunstreaker's left ring finger and slice it off. Sunstreaker muffled a cry of pain and glared hatefully up at his torturer. "Ahh, a hard ass, huh?" With that he repeated the series of motions and snipped off the yellow robot's pinky, earning him more silence from Sunstreaker.

"What the slag?" Sideswipe roared. "What do you want? We're not slagging cops!" With that Sideswipe got his left leg free enough to kick over the table, sending the discarded alien cards and drinks into the air and the table toppling, providing just enough chaos for he and his brother to capitalize on the distraction of their captors. Acting in unison, the brothers struggled and twisted in a series of organized movements to free themselves from the mooks pinning them down and managed to put a few feet between themselves and Swindles crew.

"Whoah, not bad boys." Swindle grumbled as he and his four henchmen stared angrily at the pair. "But you really haven't improved your situations any. You see, for me to consider this a successful interrogation, I need to get you to the point of hopelessness. Only then can I consider what you have to say to be on the slaggin' level. If you're hopeful of getting out of this on your own steam, then you're still willing to hold out on me, and I just can't slagging have that. You two boys are bright enough to understand, aren't you?" Swindle shrugged and smiled. "Now get the slag back in the chairs."

"Naw, no more chairs." Sideswipe replied.

"It'll be tough to sit on them after we've broken them up into five equal piles and shoved the pieces up your exhaust ports!" Sunstreaker added angrily as he glared at his mutilated hand. "Now form a line and bend over!"

Swindle started chuckling lightly. "Do you assholes really think your situation has improved any?" He looked up at the closest henchman and shook his head in feigned frustration. "You're still in a building surrounded by dozens of angry lowlifes looking to kill you. The only difference between your situation now and five minutes ago is that five minutes ago you had twenty fingers between the two of you." The blocky robot displayed a broad grin at the brothers. "But hey, maybe eighteen is your lucky number."

"Here's how we see our situation." Sideswipe snapped back. "We sit back in those chairs where either you'll kill us, or you'll cut us down to the point where we'll be useless in the pits. So the prospect of going down while fighting our way out really isn't the lesser of two evils here."

"What, no faith in the Ankmor medical community?" Swindle smirked. "If you convince me you're on the level, I'll make sure that both of you are pasted back together just like you are now. Heck, if you're my fighters, I'll spring to get you some battle grade bio-armor grafted to you."

"Max density, min mass, nervous-integratable bio-composite?" Sunstreaker asked, suddenly excited, turning slightly toward Sideswipe and continuing in a whisper. "That shit is thin and can be grafted on in place of our outer cyber-dermis. Makes us nearly impervious to most low-grade energy or projectile weapons, and weighs damn near nothing."

Sideswipe gave him a look of incredulity. "Fine, sit the slag down and continue getting chopped up."

Sunstreaker gave a mild shrug. "What's the problem, you're the one who claims to have the insane pain threshold."

Sideswipe stared at his brother for a moment before turning back to Swindle. "OK Boss, fine, chop us up. We're not slaggin' snitches."

Swindle stared at them for several moments. "You know, I may just be willing to give you lads the benefit of the doubt…for now." He returned the finger-chopping device to the compartment on his side. "But you screw me over, and I'll spend a vorn chopping pieces off of you."

The two Iaconians nodded, and Sunstreaker sheepishly grinned. "So about these enhancements..."

Nightbeat

"Enter." The voice came through both the speaker as well as through the door, and the yellow and blue robot with a broad red visor over his nose stepped forward to the now opening door. He entered the room to see the majestic form of Sentinel Honorum, who according to all reports and rumors would soon be their new Prime. The yellow and red robot smiled at the smaller visitor. "Thank you for coming Nightbeat, Prowl says you're the perfect individual for the job."

"I'm honored by his confidence and by your consideration, my lord." Nightbeat replied respectfully as he walked into the room. "Unfortunately Prowl neglected to inform me of what this job is."

Sentinel chuckled. "It's merely taking a hobby and making it your full time function."

"My lord?"

The large, hulking royal with armored enhancements adorning his already massively powerful physique smiled. "Prowl has informed me that in your down time you enjoy taking a look at cold cases, but the one that you spend perhaps the most time on is trying to figure out what happened to the Manifest."

"Yes my lord." Nightbeat replied. "I hope that isn't a problem. I know that Guardian Prime was of your house, and a very early mentor to you. I hope my prying isn't an offense."

"Very early is right." Sentinel muttered as he walked over to a table, offering a chair to Nightbeat before sitting in another one. "I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times we spoke. But yes, at seeing my post-protoformal physical and mental test scores he took a tremendous interest in me, telling me that in time I'd likely be in his inner circle. He even mentioned in confidence that I'd probably replace Galvatron as his second." Sentinel noted the stunned look on Nightbeat's face and chuckled. "Yes, scandalous, and were history to have gone that way the pillars that ended the Second War of Southern Aggression and created the peace we currently enjoy would have been shaken. Gallus was the Prime, but in the view of the southern emirates, Galvatron shared power with him equally. Gallus shitcanning him so that I could serve as his second would likely have reignited hostilities." The noble shrugged. "But history didn't go that way. I was only few months old when the Manifest disappeared."

"I…I don't know how to feel about that, my lord." Nightbeat replied. "Obviously the loss of Guardian Prime is perhaps the greatest tragedy to befall our world, but the prospect of a reignited war is terrifying."

"Terrifying, yes." Sentinel answered with a smile. "But the peace we currently live in is flawed. Gallus inherited a losing battle and a war-torn world with very little in the way of resources, especially here in the north. When an option for a noble peace was offered, he took it, but Polyhex and the emirates that united with it have never been punished for their audacity and aggression. House Macht, House Onyx, House Modus and the others retained their monarchies; the only conditions they had to abide by was the acceptance of a senate they had equal voice in, adherence to planetary laws they had a hand in creating, and an obedience to the Prime that in practice was little more than lip service."

"Forgive me, my lord, but I was led to believe that Guardian Prime and Galvatron became inseparable friends after the peace was made." The detective commented.

"They were the closest of friends." Sentinel replied. "But that doesn't change what Galvatron and those that followed him did. And frankly, when it comes to any job, much less ruling a planet, merit should outweigh friendship. Gallus apparently saw early on that I had the potential to be a greater second and Warden of the Southern Hemisphere than Galvatron. And should the south balk at that, they'd realize that the disadvantage that Gallus and our forces had found ourselves in when he first claimed the Matrix had long since vanished. But again, a moot point."

"I see, my lord." Nightbeat replied uneasily.

"It's because of this faith in me, at least in part, that I feel that finding the Manifest and bringing Gallus and his crew home for a proper interment should be made a priority." Sentinel explained. "Zeta was a friend, but this is one thing we always disagreed on. He felt it to be a lost cause and a waste of resources. But he never truly looked into the matter; nobody has. Except you." Sentinel leveled his gaze at the commoner. "So being the closest thing to an expert on the fate of the Manifest that we have, do you feel this to be a lost cause?"

Nightbeat, no less nervous, paused for several moments. "My lord…"

"Please, I need for you to relax, and for you to be absolutely frank and honest with me." Sentinel attempted to reassure his guest. "Nothing you say, no opinion or finding you have, will ever be held against you provided you keep it and any other aspect of this investigation confidential. I give you my word as a Honorum."

Overcoming his persisting nervousness, Nightbeat replied. "Alright my lord, I do not feel it to be a lost cause. Granted, with the very limited resources I've had available to me, I would not consider myself to be any sort of expert on this matter, but from what I've put together from the data that's been available to me, I believe that the Manifest can be found. There's…" Nightbeat paused, extremely hesitant.

"Please, continue." Sentinel prodded.

"Well sir, some of the evidence has led me to believe that the Manifest may have been the victim of sabotage." Nightbeat suggested.

Sentinel Honorum leaned forward, his intensity raised. "I have long suspected as much." Sentinel leaned back, silent anger coming over his face. "That would demand a criminal investigation, but wouldn't that increase the odds that the ship was obliterated with little for us to find?"

"Maybe, I don't know, my lord." Nightbeat replied. "The odds that the planet's most advanced ship would disappear without a trace so soon after launch is really what I'm basing this on. With wormhole generation flight there are countless things that could go wrong, but we'd had tens of thousands of wormhole creations in the eons prior to the Manifest without any issues. The process had become as perfected as a process that complicated can become, and yet the most advanced ship failed at something that private cargo freighters had done flawlessly for eons."

"You hardly need to be Iacon's greatest detective to notice that." Sentinel commented.

"I have other clues, ones very subtle, my lord." Nightbeat replied. "If someone did this, then whoever they are or were was very intelligent and very careful. I have my reasoning laid out in my quarters."

"I believe you." Sentinel considered. "Which makes it all the more imperative that you find whatever is out there so that we could piece together any evidence that could let us know who did this."

"It's been over a million years, my lord, I'm sure much of the evidence that may have existed has long since degraded." Nightbeat replied.

"True, but there may be something." Sentinel replied before staring directly at the detective. "I can't help but notice that you seem to be trying to discourage me from this course of action."

"It's just…" Nightbeat stared with absolute earnestness into Sentinel Honorum's optics, "frank and honest?"

"Yes, I insist." Sentinel assured him.

"There's a possibility, however slim, that one or more of the crew may still be alive." Nightbeat replied, studying the royal intently for his reaction. A stunned look and a mild hint of worry were what Nightbeat both expected and received from Sentinel Honorum.

"That's impossible." The shocked Sentinel sputtered.

"There's no evidence of destruction, and while there was no evidence that they arrived where they were scheduled to arrive, there was no discernible evidence of wormhole generator malfunction." Nightbeat explained. "Admittedly, even if they came out of the wormhole safely, after this much time they'd likely have starved, even if initiating stasis lock, but there are ways to create energon."

Sentinel stared at him incredulously. "I…why hadn't you presented this possibility before?"

"I did to Zeta Prime, my lord." Nightbeat replied. "He felt that given the amount of time that had elapsed that the odds of survivors, even if they had survived the wormhole jump, were virtually nil."

Sentinel considered that for a few moments. "He's likely right." He then peered heatedly at Nightbeat. "Why didn't you come to me with it? Barring a miracle, I'll be named Prime at the next session of the Senate."

"That's why I didn't come to you, and why I seemed to be less than encouraging with the idea of what you're proposing, my lord." Nightbeat explained, anxiety building in him. "I observe everything and everyone I see, you included. Based on what I've seen you do and say, I'm inclined to believe that you would prefer being Prime than having Guardian Prime return."

"What?" Sentinel Prime asked, anger rising within him. "How dare you?"

Nightbeat paused before clarifying. "I admit that I may be wrong, my lord, but I do have my reasons for considering this possibility. I can go over every one if you would like, but our current conversation has only reinforced this possibility for me."

"What?" Sentinel snapped. "How?"

Nightbeat nodded. "In this conversation you've mentioned Gallus six times, my lord. You have yet to say the name Guardian or Guardian Prime."

Sentinel stared angrily at the detective for over a minute of silence before finally speaking. "I appreciate your honesty, but I assure you that your assumption is false."

"I am pleased to hear that, my lord." Nightbeat replied, unconvinced. "Shall I proceed with the investigation?"

Sentinel considered that for several moments before nodding. "Yes, but the investigation is to remain secret. You will make no mention of this assignment to anyone and report only to me. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly, my lord."

A-Three

The walk down the hallway housing the servants' quarters was a long one. Keeping Tyger Pax clean and functioning perfectly required hundreds of employees. A-Three had insisted on taking one of these dormitories when he had first arrived, but Arlon Pax had forbidden it. Arlon, more so than any other royal in history, was keen to blur the lines between noble and commoner, but the idea that a friend and mentor like A-Three would occupy a tiny room with nothing but a slab and a footlocker was beyond unacceptable to him. The lord of Tyger Pax had no problem, however, placing Torenia's new foundling in one of them.

A-Three placed his hand on the shoulder of the robot with him, a slightly shorter than average dark blue robot with a robust build, prompting the smaller robot to stop and allow the older robot to go on to the room alone. A-Three approached the room silently; though he would never admit it, not even to himself, he wished to spy on Tyger Pax's newest occupant. He saw the youngster peering out the window, taking in the white vision of snow over the ground outside. A common sight in the polar emirate of The Torus Heights, though for one as young as Orion, nothing was a common sight yet. According to Torenia, he had only downloaded their verbal language, all other knowledge he had acquired had been from the observations he'd made firsthand over the handful of days he'd been alive.

The slight shift in the youth's head let A-Three know that despite his best effort, this Orion had detected his presence. The red, blue and silver robot turned, his movements unbelievably natural and graceful, belying his youth. Orion's brightly glowing azure optics met A-Three's, the much, much older robot studying them deeply, enough to note the viridescent core deep below the blue, an astoundingly unexpected trait that could explain several of the unusual things that had been observed about the youth, though not all of them. A-Three turned back to the robot he had left behind and nodded at the youngster to approach before turning back to the occupant of the room. "Greetings Orion, I trust the room is to your liking."

"Yes, sir, my lord…" The youth stammered out the reply, unsure of how to address the visitor. The red and blue robot was physically magnificent; tall, extremely broad shoulders paired with a waist that seemed almost absurdly narrow in comparison to his upper body. His thick arms waved toward the slab, offering his visitor a seat, and at seeing the smaller robot saunter up next to A-Three, extended the offer to him as well.

"That's your bed." A-Three replied with a gentle shake of his head. "We'll need to get you chairs," the much older robot scanned the small room, "though where we'll put them, I have no idea."

Orion smiled as well and even let out a soft chuckle. "I guess I shouldn't plan on hosting too many get-togethers."

A-Three peered curiously. "Sarcasm?"

A look of nervousness came over Orion. "I apologize, my lord, I don't mean to offend. I've noticed it exchanged between others, Torenia explained what it was, and I thought I was doing it right."

"You were." A-Three replied calmly, trying to put the young robot at ease. "There are those that don't appreciate the use of sarcasm. You'll likely be given a lot of leeway, being Torenia's pet and all, but you'd be well served to know who you're speaking to and whether they're comfortable with it before doing so."

"I will remember that, thank you for the lesson, sir." Orion smiled.

A-Three nodded. "You're welcome. Orion, this is Roller Pax, he was born at the same time as you and I would like to educate the two of you together. Now, it is policy for all newborns to undergo a barrage of mental and physical testing along with the selection and implementation of an alternate form to mold and build your shell into. I have you scheduled to take your tests later today, your alt form creation will likely be tomorrow; Roller has already completed both of these things. But for now I'd like to just discuss what you both know and provide you a brief overview of the history of our planet, and of the Emirate of The Torus Heights." The older robot peered over the tiny room one more time. "Let's take this outside." Orion nodded and followed A-Three and Roller out of the room and through the hallway, passing servants and other robots living in the crowded section of Tyger Pax's commoner wing.

"Do you live in this section of the castl…city…Tyger Pax?" Orion asked.

"No, as chief physician, lawyer and historian of Tyger Pax, I'm housed near the Pax's, three suites down from Roller as it happens." A-Three replied as they reached a door to the outside and exited the building, walking past rows of snow covered trees and into a vast quad, dozens of other robots outside enjoying the sunny but cold day.

"Interesting." Orion replied. "Roller, I hope that my tagging along with your education is amenable with you. I've heard that to be tutored by A-Three is a tremendous gift; I truly appreciate you sharing this with me."

"No problem Orion." Roller replied with a smile. "Frankly, I'm just happy to be able to hang out with someone my own age. Five days with almost no one but Arlon and A-Three gets a bit overwhelming."

"You are of House Pax, you have a tremendous responsibility." A-Three replied as he led the two young robots toward a forest. "And while common born, I have great expectations for Orion as well."

"I hope I prove worthy of those expectations." Orion replied.

"Oh no you don't, A-Three." Roller snapped with more than a little humor in his voice. "I'm not going to let you turn this guy into one of you. We'll nail your lessons, but no taking the fun out of this guy." The smaller robot peered intently at Orion. "There is fun in you, right?"

Orion smiled as they entered the forest. "Not that I've come across, but I'm young yet."

"What do the two of you know of your world?" A-Three asked, ignoring the bantering. "Roller seems confident that he either knows what he needs to know already or that what little he doesn't know he'll be able to pick up with minimal effort. I hope you're not so arrogant, Orion."

"I know very little of the world sir, I wish to change that, and will do whatever you expect of me to help with that process." Orion replied humbly, eliciting a light scoff from Roller.

"Kiss ass." Roller chuckled.

"I have been tasked with providing each member of House Pax with a thorough education." A-Three angrily snapped as they progressed deeper into the forest. "That includes humility, Roller, a lesson you are in desperate need of learning."

"I don't mean to be disrespectful sir," Roller replied, embarrassment clearly etched into his voice, "I'm just trying to add some levity for Orion's sake. My tutoring thus far has been daunting to say the least, I want Orion not to be overwhelmed. I really want him to stick with it."

A-Three stopped in the center of a ring of trees with several boulders near them and sat on one of the boulders, waving for his students to follow his lead. He peered at Roller and once all were seated, he addressed the youth. "I recognize that you have been overloaded early into your life with a tremendous amount to learn, but you must realize that this is for your benefit. But you are correct, it can be overwhelming, which is why I've decided it will also benefit you to learn alongside Orion. The two of you can assist one another, offer support and encouragement to one another, and perhaps even become friends in the process. Know that I can empathize with what you go through, and know that what I do here is not me attempting to torture or overwhelm you, all I do is for your benefit, the benefit of House Pax, and the benefit of Cybertron. And also know that any disrespect you show going forward will be severely punished."

Roller nodded. "Yes sir."

"Alright." A-Three looked up and took in the countless falling flakes descending upon them. "Despite its name, Cybertron is not a fully cybernetic planet. But unlike the vast majority of life-bearing planets in the universe, it is not fully organic either. As far as I know, it is the only planet that is a naturally occurring hybrid of both; a planet that has given rise to vast organic species, each producing individuals given life through an intangible and temporary, but nearly infinitely reproducible life-force, as well as producing far less numerous quasi-mechanical species with tangible and far more enduring sparks, including our own theoretically immortal species."

"Theoretically immortal?" Orion asked.

"Yes, to the best of our knowledge and theories, with adequate sustenance and maintenance to the host body, our sparks can remain viable perpetually." A-Three replied. "Though we always seem to find a way to end our lives eventually. Either through violence, accident, or physical neglect, there are few of us that survive more than a few million years at best."

"Come on, I'm sure there are careful Transformers out there that have managed not to get killed." Roller replied as Orion listened intently.

A-Three looked down at the ground, deep in thought for several moments before looking back up and replying. "Our species has existed for at least twenty million years. Even the unverified rumors regarding ancients among us only put these ancients at thirteen million years of age."

"Who are these ancients that may or may not be among us?" Orion questioned.

"I've been tasked with teaching you facts and respected theories, not with perpetuating myths." A-Three replied.

Roller grew agitated at the statement. "So no leviathans, no sparkeaters, no sirens, no minotorons, no Knights…"

"There are sparkeaters, that's why they built and man the Tartarun Gates." Orion interrupted.

"Enough! I will not be discussing any of those anytime soon, though I will go into some theories that are not accepted by the mainstream, but that I feel to be worth educating you on. For instance, that there is…" the older robot paused, once again thinking deeply, "evidence that the temporary nature of the organic life originating on this planet can be extended through scientific means, perhaps indefinitely as with our own sparks."

Both of the students peered at one another before looking back at A-Three. "What, immortal garlonics and dracosaurs?" Roller asked.

"No." A-Three studied the youths for a few moments before continuing. "Ours is not the only intelligent species to be spawned by this planet. In all likelihood, ours isn't the most intelligent species to be spawned by this planet." A-Three noted the looks of amazement and wonder. "But that, and other myths are not part of today's curriculum."

"But you stated that there was evidence." Orion countered. "Depending on the evidence, that may elevate it beyond the status of myth."

"Perhaps, young one, but even if that's the case, it is not a lesson for you to learn of today." A-Three grinned, dashing the hopes of his two students. "Instead you are going to learn of the thirteen Emirates of Cybertron, their ruling Houses, their local laws and customs as well as the planetary laws and constitution that they have all agreed to abide by as administered by the Senate."

"Ughn." Roller grumbled.

Megatron

"Any apprehensions?" Militus asked as they marched down the corridor toward the medical wing of House Macht.

Megatron smiled as he strode confidently next to the overlord of Polyhex. "None, Lord Macht. I am eager for this to happen."

"As am I." Militus replied. "For far too long that sub-humanoid Ogrus Onyx has been bragging of his invincible vassal Grimlock. Once upgraded with the latest armor and press enhancements, you will be able to bring that dragon's reign to an end. I just hope you survive the process."

Megatron chuckled as the two of them pushed through the doors and entered the small hospital. "I'm not concerned."

Militus took the lead and led the younger robot down a hallway toward a fortified laboratory. "I am. The resources I'm devoting to you are not easy to come by, and certainly not inexpensive. You've shown exceptional potential in the training, but you've had no actual combat experience."

"I've seen my share of combat, Lord Macht." Megatron replied dryly.

"Thugs, you've beaten thugs." Militus snapped back. "In the pits you will face honed athletes for whom fighting is their function, their reason for existence. Beating up several belligerent laborers doesn't make you ready for the gladiatorial pits. And even if your skills and combat savvy were to continue progressing as they've been progressing, that doesn't mean you're capable of surviving the completion of this procedure. Only a handful of warriors have been able to endure this in its entirety, and more than that number have died in the process." A slender robot approached them, and Militus turned toward him. "Greetings Doctor Rossum."

"Greetings my lord." Rossum replied as he looked Megatron over intently. "You were right, he is one sturdy looking candidate. And large, though not as large as Ogrus's juggernaut."

"So that's good, right?" Militus asked. "I mean, as far as the chances of the procedure's success, right?"

"Large size is a good sign, especially if he moves well." Rossum explained still examining Megatron. The young patient was used to being looked upon as a resource by the powers that be, but it annoyed him no less.

"If you mean speed and agility, then yes, he moves like a bot a third his size." Militus replied.

"Good. People frequently assume it takes a powerful spark to pull together and control a large frame, but often times it's just a mediocre or even weak spark that happened to bubble up in an area with abundant sentio metallico." Rossum continued as he prepared the equipment. "That frequently leads to clumsy bots unable to manipulate their frames worth a damn. Then there are cases where a powerful spark will create a smaller body, whether due to a shortage of available material or for some other unexplainable reason. But in general, a large frame is not a bad sign." The doctor waved to an open chamber. "Megatron is it? Please enter so that we can get started." Without hesitation Megatron marched across the room and entered the chamber, leaning back to allow himself to get strapped in. "Well, we do have an eager one, don't we?" Rossum chuckled to Militus before turning to Megatron. "In a big hurry to get some more argonized steel and polymer sinew, are we?"

Megatron merely smiled and looked forward. "Yes."

Militus walked toward them and stood before Megatron, peering deeply into his optics. "For this to be even the slightest bit profitable for me, you need to be able to endure at least a third of the planned bonding and half of the interior press enhancements. If you're unable to do that, you'll have wasted a fair chunk of my money, and proven to lack the mettle to be of any use to me in the pits. And you know what happens to those that cost me money and have no way of repaying their losses, right?"

Megatron smiled broadly, tempted to tell the Emir of Polyhex exactly the esteem with which he held his threats, but decided to keep that to himself for the moment. "My frame will accept every alteration Rossum has in store for me, and when he's finished I'll ask for more."

Militus continued staring at Megatron for a few more moments before turning to Rossum. "Do it."

Rossum smiled and walked over to a control panel to begin the procedure. "Here we go." With the flick of a few switches Megatron was pulled tight into the chamber and various cutting, melting, boring and welding tools all around the chamber sprung to life. Rossum began smiling as only grunts came when normally there would be screams of agony. Even several minutes later, as the most invasive aspects of the surgery were underway, the only signs of discomfort elicited from the miner-turned-gladiator were grunts of discomfort. "His pain threshold certainly won't be an issue in the pits." Rossum chuckled.

"How is his frame reacting to the additions to it?" Militus asked as he walked over to Rossum to peer at the array of screens in front of him.

Rossum studied the data being scrawled across as well. "Quite well, quite well." The doctor leaned closer to the screen to study it more intently. "In fact, the acceptance rates are superior to any enhancement procedure I've ever come across; likely better than anyone's ever come across, at least in recent times."

"Meaning what?" Militus asked, his interest possessing a hint of nervousness.

Rossum quickly typed some commands into the computer, turned away and marched rapidly toward the patient, looking into the chamber as the automated arms of the medical contrivance began cutting and peeling away at Megatron's inner chest structures. Megatron's discomfort increased significantly, causing him to growl and snap at the doctor in front of him. "I do not believe this is part of the procedure, Rossum!" The young robot felt panic welling up in him; he was trapped, completely at the mercy of these two, and he had sensed early on that Militus had always regarded him as a threat. He had considered his position with the Emir to be safe, at least for the time being, but it now appeared he was wrong. If they were betraying him, there would be nothing he could do to stop them.

"No, it is not." Rossum replied, staring with extreme interest into his patient's chest. "Do not fear, I assure you that any harm that is done with be repaired immediately. But I must know."

"Must know wha…aaaahhhhhhh!?" Megatron roared as his spark chamber was cut open.

"My sweet maker…" Rossum muttered through his grinning mouth as green light poured out from his patient, "I've never seen one in person."

"Seen what?" Militus asked as he made his way over, but gasped as he saw the green energy emanating out of Megatron's chest. "Impossible." He stared fearfully at Megatron's face. "I didn't believe point one percenters existed."

"Oh, they exist, but the designation is grossly inaccurate." Rossum replied as he walked back over to the control panel and plugged in new instructions, ones that instantly caused the mechanisms to repair the damage done and continue on with the enhancements. "From the little I've been able to study on the subject, point zero zero zero zero two percenter would be more apt."

"One in fifty thousand?" Militus asked, still staring at Megatron's chest as the green light was sealed off by the repairing of the spark chamber.

"That's my guess." Rossum replied. "There are others. Based on what I've discussed with colleagues serving House Onyx, I'm all but certain that Ogrus's champion possesses one, though that too is just a guess. Apparently Grimlock isn't fond of being scanned and is less fond of being cut open."

"Then he's going to be truly upset when I cut him open from crotch to throat and toss his spark, whatever color it is, into the crowd." Megatron snarled from within the chamber.

Rossum chuckled and turned to Militus. "Based on this, I'm confident that his frame can accept some theoretical enhancements that I've come up with; that is, if you're willing to finance it."

"Negative." Militus replied quietly, seemingly to try and be too quiet for Megatron to hear, but failing as the patient was barely able to make out the following. "The standard alpha gladiator upgrade is sufficient. I don't need the histories remembering me as the Emir that unleashed a second Galvatron on the planet."

Arlon Pax

The six-wheeled gray and blue cruiser cut through the snow on the roadway as it continued to speed into the polar mountain range, at least while there was roadway to drive over. When the snow-covered road came to an end, the vehicle transformed into its bestial form and Arlon Pax, Emir of The Torus Heights, made his way over the treacherous terrain into the mountains. He traveled quickly up the mountains, through ravines, and through passes few if any others could get through. His frame seemed perfectly adapted to this environment, and his knowledge of the area was unequalled. After a few hours of travelling by foot he finally arrived at the mouth of a gigantic cavern, a mouth closed off by an enormous metal wall. He approached it, his proximity causing defensive cannons to spring forth from their housings within rocks and the ground and target him.

"Halt!" A booming voice echoed through hidden speakers. "Identify yourself!"

"I am Lord Arlon Pax, Emir of The Torus Heights, here for my quarterly examination of the Tartarun Gates." The beast called back at the faceless voice. "Open the gate Kup, my servos are starting to freeze."

With that a large door within the metal wall slowly slid open and a light blue robot walked out. "Sorry Lord Pax, but there are procedures even you and I need to adhere to."

"No worries, Lord Commander." Arlon replied with a grin. "You're looking well."

"As are you, Arlon." Kup replied as he caught Arlon's raised front paw in his hand and shook it. "Let's take this inside and let your poor servos warm up."

"Of course old friend." Arlon said as he walked through the doorway and into the cavern, followed by Kup.

"So I felt a few tremors a few days back." Kup commented as they made their way through the moderately lit cavern, passing well-armed soldiers of various designs, ages and body types. "Was House Pax blessed with any new lords or ladies?

"Aye, Roller." Arlon replied. "Seems like a good lad, not the largest of bots but a stout, strong frame and very inquisitive with what appears to be the intellect to match his curiosity."

"Oh, he sounds like a fine addition to your House." Kup replied. "So just the one?"

Arlon casually glanced over at a squad of soldiers training in hand-to-hand combat. "Born of our hotspot, yes, though Torenia returned from her trip to Cybertropolis with a commoner protoform she wishes to raise at Tyger Pax."

"Is that legal?" Kup asked. "Wouldn't that protoform be a vassal of House Honorum or a lesser House of Nova Cronum? At least until it reached the age of self-determination."

"No, she found him on her way back from the trip, just inside the Torus Heights border." Arlon explained. "North of Burthov I believe."

"Burthov?" Kup was startled. "There's no sentio metallico in or around Burthov, at least that I'm aware of."

"That's what she told me." Arlon replied.

"Well, I suppose even the wells of the thirteen great houses were once barren." Kup explained as they continued deeper into the vast cavern, passing barracks and the large mess hall built into a side cavern. "Does this commoner seem to be a good lad too?"

"Aye, he does." Arlon answered, taking in and evaluating every detail of the cavern, though knowing that under Kup's command that all aspects of the Gates and the Wardens assigned to guard them would be more than adequate. "Polite, good natured, and by all indications appears to be exceptionally intelligent. And he's perhaps the finest physical specimen I've ever come across."

"Hmm, perhaps when he comes of age this specimen can be persuaded to join the Wardens of the Gates for a ten vorn stint." Kup suggested mirthfully.

"I'm not an Honorum, Maximus or Decimus, I don't strong arm my vassals into joining the Wardens for the honor of my House." Arlon replied. "But I will make Orion aware of the opportunity, and the honor it holds to serve."

"Our values mirror those of House Pax, my lord." Kup replied. "The strong sense of civic duty instilled in all natives of The Torus Heights has sent many of your vassals to the Gates of their own free will. I merely ask that you treat this Orion as you would any that have the honor of serving you."

Arlon shook his head sadly. "No Kup, it is I that has the honor of serving them. If only the other Emirs and nobles possessed this perspective then perhaps the Golden Age could be reclaimed."

"You forget that I'm much older than you are Arlon." Kup replied. "The Golden Age was called that due to contentment and plenty, not because it possessed your ideal of equality amongst all Cybertronians. Guardian Prime was a great many wonderful things, but eliminating the distinction between noble and commoner was never a priority for him."

"Well it is for me." Arlon replied. "Which reminds me, how is Perceptor doing as a teacher?"

Kup laughed out loud. "Oh, he's not happy with you for talking him into taking on the role of physician and educator here."

"I know." Arlon smiled, his bestial mouth making for a fearsome sight. "But it's a task I feel he and few others can achieve."

"What, educate this rabble so that at the end of their watch they go back and educate other commoners in their emirates or demand that those emirates follow the lead of Torus Heights and provide education to them?" Kup asked chuckling. "Your motives aren't that hard to figure out." Kup stopped laughing but maintained his mirth. "I hear you have an educator at Tyger Pax that can probably do the job. Any chance you'd be willing to talk him into serving as a Warden for a few vorns?"

Arlon grew slightly uneasy. "I fear A-Three has no interest in leaving Tyger Pax."

"Oh right, he's calling himself A-Three these days." Kup noted Arlon's agitated glare. "I saw him while I was at Tyger Pax eight vorns back. You forget, I'm much older than you are, and a change in facial shapes only goes so far."

"We will speak no more on this subject." Arlon stated in a tone so that there would be no room to argue.

"As you wish, my lord." Kup replied as they reached a second large metal wall. "So, is this to be another routine inspection?"

"Not so routine." Arlon replied. "I wish to speak with him."

"Ah, so you're planning on walking all the way down, huh?" Kup replied, a bit of surprise in his voice. "Any particular reason you wish to meet with him?"

Both robots stopped and peered at the door at the base of the metal wall. "The murder of Zeta Prime has me…concerned, as well as intrigued about the prospect of selecting another Prime in the absence of the Matrix, how Cybertron was prior to the Matrix selecting the first Prime…" Arlon paused, "I just feel uneasy and I wish to use someone far older than you or I as a sounding board." He looked over and smiled weakly at Kup. "And I fear A-Three is unwilling to discuss such things with anyone anymore."

"Got it." Kup replied, looking up at a drone hidden in the wall. "Lord Commander Kup authorizing admittance to the lower levels to Arlon Pax." With that the door to the lower levels slid open and Arlon passed through.

Arlon Pax continued down into the depths, advancing through progressively darker sections of the cavern with the grade dropping lower and lower to the point where a biped would have had difficulty remaining upright. Every half mile there would be plaques mounted on the walls detailing events of a war waged fifteen million years before, all heavily worn even with constant maintenance and upkeep. After several miles Arlon came upon one more enormous metal wall, but the door opened for him as he got there and he passed on through. By this point his surroundings were significantly warmer, and he looked straight ahead to see another metal wall in the distance. But instead of continuing toward it, he stopped. He had reached his destination. He peered up and to the side to see two green orbs shining through layers of dust. "Hello old friend."

A giant stepped forward, hundreds of pounds of dust falling away from his moving body. "Greetings Arlon Pax. It is good to see you again. What brings you to these depths?"

"Greetings Omega Supreme, I have come to tell you that Zeta Prime has been murdered." Arlon said. "Sentinel Honorum will be selected by the Senate to be the next Prime, and I fear that in time our planet will devolve into the chaos of a pre-Matrix Cybertron."

"And what do you wish from me?" Omega Supreme asked.

Arlon nodded his animalistic head and paused before continuing. "I know Sentinel Honorum fairly well, I respect him, he was a good lad, has become an excellent leader in most regards…but I do not know whether he's worthy of being a Prime."

"When they come to meet me, they have already been selected to be Prime." Omega Supreme replied. "Even if the Senate does place any weight on my opinion, by the time I'm in a position to formulate one, the decision has been made. I do not see what you expect me to do."

"There remains one that the Matrix once deemed worthy to bear it." Arlon replied. "I come to you to aid me in making him return to public eye and reclaim the mantel of Prime. He may not possess the Matrix, but Primon was chosen by it."

"He is called Primon the Abdicator for a reason." The giant replied. "On one occasion he relinquished both the title and the Matrix to one he felt to be more worthy, and on two other occasions he held back in his claim because he found others he felt to be more worthy."

"And on all occasions the Matrix selected those he had chosen." Arlon responded. "His judgment was sound, his choices correct."

"And yet you now choose to question his judgment and not accept his choice to remain anonymous?" The Guardian replied.

"He has withdrawn." Arlon answered. "It is this that I cannot accept. Had Justicia Ambus not existed to become Prima, or Nova Onyx to become Nova Prime, or Gallus Honorum to become Guardian Prime, he'd have stepped in and served."

"No, your historical accounts are incorrect in regard to Nova Prime." Omega Supreme countered. "Primon nearly died defeating Deathsaurus, and allowed the world to think he had. Nova Onyx's ascension to Prime had nothing to do with Primon's endorsement or approval."

"True, but his absence was mitigated by the fact that he wasn't needed at that point." Arlon replied. "The crisis was over. When Galvatron rose up and killed Nova Prime, Primon was going to lead the forces of the north until he encountered a young Gallus Honorum and felt he fit some alien prophecy and would make for the greatest of Primes."

"And you feel there is a crisis that only Primon can guide us through going on now?" Omega Supreme asked, waiting for Arlon to look away at not having a definitive answer for the question before continuing. "I know the murder of the Prime has created many problems, and that you doubt the Senate, Sentinel Honorum and whoever else to be up to the task of dealing with these problems, but I don't see that as a crisis that Primon and nobody else can face."

"Believe me, old friend," Arlon muttered shaking his head, "I pray to Primus that you're right."

Roller Pax

The six-wheeled dark blue cruiser rolled quietly through the endless hallways of the servants' section of Tyger Pax, finally arriving outside the door of Orion. Roller transformed and with a code he technically wasn't allowed to possess, he opened the door. To his astonishment, Orion remained sleeping; normally the big guy was alert to the slightest little things, but he was totally out. Then Roller saw the wheels on Orion's legs and remembered that he too had been deeply offline for nearly half a day following his alternate mode surgery. He peered out the window just beyond Orion's dormancy slab into the dark night before approaching the slab and gently slapping his friend's cheek and whispering. "Wake up you mook." Orion barely stirred, prompting Roller to grab his shoulder and shake it.

"Ughn…" Orion groaned from the pain caused by the shaking of his still-healing body.

"Shut up." Roller whispered harshly, covering his friend's mouth. Orion's optics burned to full activation and peered at Roller in confusion. "We're bustin' outta here. Hitting the Polarus night life."

"What?" The groggy Orion quietly asked after pushing Roller's hand away and rose to a seated position on his slab. "We can't hit nightlife until we reach the age of self-determination."

Roller reached down and spun one of the wheels on Orion's leg. "Now that we have wheels there's no visible difference between us and a Cybertronian with fifty thousand vorns under his belt. And the only guy outside of Tyger Pax whose seen me is the guy we're going to be hanging with."

Orion stood up and took a couple of wobbly steps, his body still apparently quite sore and unsteady from the surgery. "We're going to be smelted if we get caught leaving Tyger Pax."

"That's why we need to be really quiet." Roller replied and quietly slipped out of the room, looking back at Orion with clear expectations of being followed. "You'd better come to keep me out of trouble."

"A futile effort." Orion replied as he followed after the smaller robot. The two slipped outside the building and quietly shuffled their way away toward the forest. Once there they moved faster, but were still trying to be as quiet as possible. "This is a truly horrible idea." Orion whispered as they pushed through the underbrush.

"What? Arlon is still up north, so everyone else is in lax-mode." Roller replied, a hint of mirth in the whisper.

"Look, you may be unknown outside Tyger Pax, but people saw me with Torenia when we first arrived." Orion stated as the two reached a road that they felt was a safe distance from the compound. "And just who is this guy we're going to be hanging with?"

"Name's Dion, he's a laborer who delivered supplies to Tyger Pax." Roller answered as he stood on the road and transformed. "Good guy, I think you'll like him. Now transform."

Orion stared at his own limbs and then at the road. "This is my first time transforming with a vehicle mode." He explained. "Heck, I only transformed to shell mode twice prior to the surgery."

"Well stop fretting over your cherry and get it done." Roller grumbled.

"Cherry?" Orion asked.

"Has to do with mammalian reproduction, pretty gross actually." Roller replied. "Now let's transform and roll out!"

"Fine." Orion replied, still hesitant, and after another short pause, set upon shifting his body to his heavily altered former shell. The process ached, but that was due to the surgical injuries he was recovering from.

"Not bad actually." Roller mused as he took in Orion's vehicular shape. "Actually, pretty damn sharp. I'm jealous."

"Yeah, you're jealous of my common born, blocky, freight-hauler-changing-into bumper." Orion muttered as he activated the motors for each of the wheels on his body and slowly moved forward, then backward.

"Actually, yeah, how could I not be?" Roller replied. "You're huge, femmes stare at you all the time, and, well, I've seen your test scores."

"You have?" Orion questioned in surprise, his surprise quickly changing to irritation. "You're not allowed to look at my scores!"

"Relax, O, you have nothing to be embarrassed about." Roller replied. "Were they my scores, I'd have them posted on every wall in Polarus."

"Still," Orion grumbled, "that's an invasion of privacy!"

"Oh shut up, Orion." Roller snapped as he pulled away, prompting Orion to follow him toward the lights of the city in the near distance. "I scored well, very well actually in both the physical and intellectual tests, but you reset the bar for both. Frankly, in every way outside of where we were born, you have me trumped."

"Well then I guess it's good that nobility trumps everything else." Orion replied as he caught up to Roller.

"I wouldn't know." Roller replied. "Lesser houses are nobility, House Pax counts as royalty in this emirate."

"Piss off, your highness." Orion snapped, eliciting a laugh from Roller. "So where are we heading."

"Place is called 'Wolf at the Door', from what I've been told it's a bit of a shithole, but Dion says it's the only place to get a full taste of The Torus Height's flavorful denizens." Roller answered.

"Ugh, we're going to get in trouble." Orion grumbled as they entered the outskirts of the city. "But I suppose the silver lining is that this may be a good opportunity to get to know the people that you may someday lead."

"There ya' go, you just keep on finding those silver linings buddy!" Roller laughed as he accelerated through the street of the brightly lit town, passing other vehicles and pedestrians moving along the sidewalk. They weaved through the increasingly busy streets until turning down an alley and coming upon a dimly lit building adorned by a sign saying 'Wolf at the Door' in barely lit letters.

"You're kidding me." Orion asked as they transformed in front of the building.

"Naw man, this is perfect." Roller grinned as he approached the door.

A large robot, one similar in size and bulk to Orion but whose movements were heavier and less graceful, stepped out from the shadow in the doorway and stood before the two. "You'll submit to a weapon's scan before entering."

Roller and Orion looked at each other and shrugged before turning back and replying in unison. "Agreed."

The bouncer pulled out a prod of some sort and ran it over the outsides of their frames. As he did so he noted Orion's new wheels. "Damn, you have some squeaky clean wheels, dude." He then looked over at Roller and noted that his too looked brand new. "Both of you." He then stepped back and eyed them warily. "What's with the new wheels? You two ain't a pair of protos, are you?"

Roller nervously shifted toward Orion, a look of mock disbelief and indignation on his face. "Protos, us? Hell no!"

"The grease on those wheels of yours is clean enough to bath in," the bouncer replied, "and there isn't the slightest bit of wear on those treads. How's about you two kids head back to your adolescenters before your state-assigned nannies notice you gone from your cribs?"

"You're right." Orion replied, eliciting a look of shocked anger from Roller. "Our wheels and motors are new, though even years from now they'll still likely look new, at least I believe they will. You see, we're not from here, we're both from Ankmor Park, a mining town a couple hundred miles south of Petrex and the main source of energon for the emirate of Ankmor. We were miners, laborers for whom motors, wheels and treads were considered an unnecessary expense. Well, after living frugally and saving our pay for three vorns, we were finally able to pay off our tabs to the company stores, pay for alt modes and book passage to the closest emirate where commoners aren't shit upon." Orion intensified his gaze into the bouncer's optics. "We found jobs in North Burthov, got a paycheck, polished ourselves up and decided to hit the big city."

Roller shrugged. "You know, big for the Heights."

The bouncer stared them over. "You're looking to do it up big and you came to this place?"

Orion chuckled. "Not enough polish on Cybertron to wash off enough of the mines to make us comfortable in any place higher rent than this."

The bouncer looked them over one more time before stepping aside. "Well then boys, don't let me take up any more of your time. Nobody deserves a few drinks more than you two."

Orion nodded and the two of them walked in. Roller leaned in close to his friend and whispered as they entered the establishment. "That was slagging brilliant."

"I feel dirty." Orion replied uneasily. "I don't want to lie again."

"But you're so good at it!" Roller responded as they walked through several patrons toward the main bar.

"Pax!" Both newcomers turned to see a robot sitting at a table calling out to Roller. He had a blue torso with orange portions of what must have been his alternate mode mounted on his back, his face and head were white and nestled within an orange helmet. Roller scampered over to the table with Orion right behind him. "You made it."

"Hey, quiet with the Pax stuff!" Roller grumbled as they sat across from them. "I'm not supposed to be here, if they find out I'm the Pax pup I won't get served and Torenia will be called to collect me."

"Fine, sorry pup." Dion replied and then looked at Orion. "So who's your friend?"

"This is my brother Orion." Roller replied.

"Brother?" Dion looked him over. "Nice to meet you, Orion Pax."

"It's just Orion." The red and blue robot extended his hand to shake Dion's. "I'm a commoner who just got fortunate enough to be found by Tornenia and brought to live in Tyger Pax."

"Oh yeah, I remember hearing about a proto Torenia found along the road south of here. So Roller's the House pup, and you're the house pet. Well commoner or not, you're still probably too fancy for the riffraff here." Dion replied and smiled as he saw a waitress walking over to them. "But even dives like this can house a gem or two. Boys, I'd like you to meet Ariel, the best serving femme in the northern hemisphere."

"I thought I was the best serving femme on the planet." Ariel replied. "So, Dion, who are your friends." The femme smiled broadly at each but once the initial smile was given to Dion and Roller her optics settled on Orion.

"My dark blue friend here is Roller, and this fine red specimen is Orion." Dion said, noting the waitress staring at Orion. "Yeah, he's pretty, but he's just a commoner."

"I wish he were more common." Ariel replied. "What can I get you lads?"

"Let's keep it simple, these fellows are young yet." Dion replied. "Three large vials of Northern Sky Engex, and bring three more five minutes later."

"That's too much too soon." Orion replied.

"Quit being a femme." Roller jabbed.

"Hey." Orion snapped at his friend. "I enjoy our insults, but such generalizations regarding groups are beneath you and are offensive to both them and those that hear you do it."

"Whoah, settle down hero." Ariel chuckled at Orion. "I can handle comments from knuckleheads like your friend, so there's no need for you to be such a femme."

"I…wha…" the confused Orion stuttered, "I, uh, I thought…I…Roller…his comment was demeaning to you. I thought you would be insulted."

Ariel reached over and gently cupped Orion's face, smiling at him as she did so. "You know nothing, Orion." She then straightened up and addressed the table, smiling at Dion and Roller as they chuckled at the still startled Orion. "Three Northern Sky's followed by another three, coming right up."

Dion leaned back as Ariel walked away from the table and grinned at the two youngsters. "We're going to play it low key tonight Roller, just hang out here for a while before I send you kids home, but if you can get your friend's hero impulse in check then maybe some night we can do a full-fledged pub-crawl that takes us through the entire city."

"You don't know the half of it." Roller muttered, chuckling at his friend's expense. "But with your help I'm certain that in time we can fully corrupt the big lug's idealism." Roller's optics started back toward Dion but froze as he caught sight of something at the door. "Holy shit, I didn't know Cybertronians could get that big."

Dion and Orion turned to see what he was talking about and Dion groaned. "Oh, that's Lugnut. Haven't seen him in a while. Well, actually, haven't seen him in person for a while. Saw him on a vid-feed at a place even seedier than this a few weeks back. Couldn't make out his face…or what one would call his face were he to actually have a face, but I couldn't make out his features due to the digital obfuscation programming, but it was obviously him. The stupid bastard didn't even change his paintjob." Dion winced as he realized something. "But I didn't just say that and you didn't hear anything."

"What?" Roller asked.

"Never mind." Dion replied. "Just know that despite being nine head's taller than your large friend here and monstrously powerful, in actuality he's a gigantic asshole who loves picking fights and ruining everyone's fun, so by all means, we should hang out with him."

"He's being sarcastic." Orion nudged Roller with a smile on his face.

"Thanks for the tip." Roller snapped back giving Orion a stupid look.

"Yeah, forgot you guys are just babies." Dion interjected. "Sarcasm aside, I would suggest not looking his way."

The heads of the two young robots turned back toward the table, which worked out as Ariel had just returned to place their drinks in front of them. "There you go boys."

"I'm sure you saw who just walked in." Dion said seriously to Ariel.

"Don't worry, D, I can take care of myself." Ariel replied, though there was a little worry in her voice.

"His right arm has been recently rebuilt." Orion said out of the blue.

"What?" Roller and Ariel asked.

Dion stared in amazement at Orion. "How do you know that?"

"Color patterns on and around his shoulder aren't as faded as his torso or arm." Orion explained.

"Wow, great observation." Dion replied.

"You mean he's right?" Ariel asked.

"Yea…I…err…I don't know, actually." Dion replied.

"Something to do with what you didn't just say and we didn't just hear?" Roller asked sarcastically. "Trust me Dion, if you actually had to go to school with this clown, you wouldn't be surprised by him catching this."

"Oh Primus, you don't actually watch that stuff." Ariel groaned and then looked at the younger two. "Dion telling you…wait, did you say school?" She looked at Dion in surprise, and at seeing his sheepish grin, gave him a scolding glare. "Never mind. But he's right to tell you to forget everything he may have said about whatever he was talking about. Seriously, stay away from that stuff." She then turned fully to Dion and slapped him hard on the shoulder. "They better not be from this last pulse, or so help me I'll beat your ass." With that she started to storm off, but stopped as a deep voice bellowed from across the bar.

"Hey sweet-plates, get those swiveling hips over here and say hello to me!" Lugnut called out as he let his frame fall on a sturdy metal chair that still strained under his massive bulk. "I know you've been missing me."

Ariel grimaced before turning and smiling at the huge patron and walking toward his table. "Of course I have. Where have you been?"

Orion observed everything from the corner of his optic. It was none of his business, but he was compelled to make sure that Ariel, or anyone else for that matter, was not harmed. "Been on vacation down south, enjoying the warmer weather, the busier cities, the better, well everything." Lugnut laughed. "The only thing worthwhile in this frozen shithole is you, Baby."

"That's so sweet." Ariel replied through her forced smile. "So what can I get for you?"

"A vat of Nightmare Fuel along with a vial of whatever fu-fu drink you like." Lugnut replied. "I'm sure the Wolf at the Door can make do without you for a night as you keep me company."

Orion continued monitoring the two as Roller leaned toward Dion. "How does someone that big even come into existence?"

Dion shrugged. "A few hundred vorns back your vassals, House Boltax acquired lots of extra sentio metallico and added it to their ancestral hotspot hoping to get lots of healthy new members to add to their ranks. Don't know if your instructor has covered this, but that's pretty illegal, but not entirely uncommon, especially in other emirates. Anyway, when Vector Sigma gave off a pulse only one viable spark was sent up into House Boltax's hotspot, and instead of lots of healthy bots, they got that one monster."

Orion caught the conversation, but was twisting his head more toward Lugnut and Ariel, watching what was going on with them. "Sorry hun," Ariel replied as she took a casual step back away from the table, "but the boss is paying me to get the patrons drunk, not to get drunk with the patrons."

"But I'm not just a patron," Lugnut boasted, "I'm a noble, one of the finest specimens on the planet, and I'm sure your boss wouldn't have a problem with you spending some quality time with a V.I.P. like me. I'm kind of a celebrity in certain circles."

"You're a celebrity here too, Luggy." Ariel replied playfully, trying to calm the braggart down as she turned away. "Let me go get your drink."

Lugnut lurched up to his feet and grabbed the vastly smaller femme by the arm. "Don't get dismissive with me, bitch, I'm a slagging champion! I trashed all comers where I've been, and I'm entitled to a little respect from a common trollop like you!"

"Hands off the lady!" Orion roared as he gripped the massive wrist.

The stunned Lugnut peered down at Orion and after a few tense moments of silence an ominous chuckling stared coming out from his nearly featureless face, his large red optic burning brightly. "Punk, you have no idea what you just did."

"Hold up there, Lug." Dion called out nervously as he stood from his chair, slowly approaching the three in a likely futile attempt to quell the situation. "He's a kid, not even a week old yet. Hell, look at his wheels, his axel grease is clean enough to brush your teeth with."

"So the slag what?" Lugnut bellowed. "He dared to put his common slagging hands on me! ME! The greatest fighter on the planet!"

"Uh, don't know how to tell you this, Nuts, but I saw your fight." Dion hesitantly replied. "First, I thought the first rule of fight club was that you can't talk about fight club. Secondly, uhhh, that dragon guy from Simfur pretty much owned you. Took your arm and used it to beat you unconsc…"

"That wasn't me!" Lugnut roared. "I don't know what the slag you're talking about!"

"Please release the lady." Orion calmly requested, looking up at the raging aggressor.

"That's please release the lady, sir." Lugnut growled. "I'm of House Boltax, you're old enough to show your superiors their due respect, you piece of shit!" With that Lugnut released his grip on Ariel and whipped his massive arm at Orion, sending the youth sailing across the bar and into the wall, toppling a couple of tables in the process.

"Hey!" Dion and Roller yelled as they charged the giant, but they two were sent flying back as Lugnut swiped his massive right arm at them.

"Stop it!" Ariel cried out, but she was ignored as Lugnut started marching toward Orion, who was sliding up against the wall at his back to a standing position. Lugnut reached back to deliver a punch to the far smaller opponent, but at seeing him coming Orion braced himself against the wall and sent a kick to the giant's midsection, one hard enough to stop Lugnut and force him to lean over a bit, enough for Orion to get to a full standing position and deliver a thunderous left haymaker to the side of Lugnut's head without having to reach up too far.

Lugnut's large head snapped back, he turned to look back at Orion a moment later, but his suddenly wobbly legs started to give under his weight, and he stumbled back a few steps to catch his balance. He planted a hand on a table, but it toppled and he dropped to one knee. An audible gasp went out around the bar as they all realized that the invincible Lugnut had been staggered by a single punch thrown by what may be a newborn half his size. Orion stepped forward, extending a hand to help the dizzy fighter, but was startled as an electronic device suddenly slammed into Lugnut's back. Orion turned his head to see where it had come from, only lurch back as a similar device slammed into and affixed itself to his chest. He looked from it to the door where it had come from, and saw a larger than average red robot holding a big unusual rifle pointed at him.

"What the…?" Lugnut grumbled as his head finally started working through the cobwebs. He turned to look at the newcomer as well, and grumbled again as he stood upright. "Piss off Ironhi…aaaahhhhhhh!" The red robot had flipped a switch on the rifle, causing an intensely painful surge to go through the bodies of both Lugnut and Orion. Both robots collapsed to the floor, but Orion was able to work through the pain, grip the device on his chest, and pry it free, dropping it on the floor next to him, but was barely able to remain conscious after the struggle. Lugnut convulsed violently for a few more moments, knocking several chairs and tables over in the process before going silent. Both Lugnut and the vibrating device on the floor next to Orion suddenly ceased movement as the red robot switched the subjugation chips off.

Orion heard the footsteps getting closer, it was the only noise left in the bar, and finally saw the face of the robot who had subdued the two of them. The silver face was housed within a red helmet, both the face and helmet more than a little weathered looking. The armed robot, one displaying a look of absolute seriousness stared down at the youngster for several tense moments before saying something. "Now who in tha' pit are you?"

"He's…" Roller stammered out as he stepped forward, "he's with me."

The armed robot turned and looked Roller over from head to toe. "That's nice ta hear, but ah don't know you either."

"Slag all of you." Lugnut groaned as he started moving again. "Your position of Constable is effectively over, Ironhide. The moment word gets out that you assaulted a noble, you're slagged."

Ironhide chuckled lightly. "Planetary statute number seven four eight three states that an officer of the law may employ any reasonable means of subduing an individual breaking the law regardless of the transgressor's social status."

"That's not taken seriously." Lugnut grumbled, still smarting from being electrified a few minutes prior.

"It is in this emirate." Ironhide replied before turning back to Roller. "So just who are ya' and Thunderpunch here? It'll make booking ya' infinitely easier if I know your names."

"Hey Ironhide, this kid didn't do anything, and Thunderpunch over there was simply trying to get Nutso to let go of Ariel and got punched across the room for his chivalry." Dion stepped forward. "Ask anyone. So how about we let these two go?"

"Yeah, ask anyone." Lugnut chuckled as he got to his knees and then stood up, Orion getting to his feet as well. "Like anyone here will bear witness against a member of House Boltax."

"Truth is truth," Orion chimed in, "it's no less valid coming from the mouth of a commoner, and any retaliation against it is a crime against reason and integrity."

Every head in the bar turned to look at Orion, humorous disbelief etched on their faces, including Ironhide's. "Ah had a feeling you were a youngun' by yer' spit-shined tires, but that corny bit just confirmed it for me."

"Corny, and pointless." Lugnut replied, glaring down at Orion in as intimidating a manner possible. "The simple fact is that nobody here will earn the wrath of House Boltax."

"Oh for slag's sake!" Roller had had enough of this. "I'll see your nobility and raise you a royalty." He looked at the stunned and terrified Dion. "Cat's out of the bag anyway, so I might as well defang this twat."

"Royalty?" Lugnut roared. "What the slag is this shitbird saying?"

Ironhide remained silently staring at Roller for several moments before walking over to him and staring deeply into his face. "Roller Pax?"

Roller nodded, causing everyone in the bar with the exceptions of Orion, Dion and Ironhide to gasp. A moment later Dion followed suit, feigning surprise. "Whaaaaa, you're a Pax? You should have sai…"

"Shut up Dion." Ironhide grumbled but maintained his stare at Roller. "Ah suppose your hard hitting friend is the protoform Torenia found." Ironhide turned and looked at the red and blue youth. "Orion is it?"

"Yes sir." Orion replied, bowing his head humbly.

Ironhide nodded and approached Orion. "Most places of business have video surveillance, but one of the many charms of 'The Wolf at the Door' is their utter lack of it. Kind of gives a homey feel for naer-do-wells. I can proceed with witness statements, but it's been more vorns than I care to remember where a conviction was reached without some sort of recording technology being involved." Ironhide turned and looked at Ariel. "Ah am, however, fully capable of issuing a restraining order ta Lugnut based on mah own judgment, to keep him away from both you and this establishment. Would ya like that?"

Ariel looked angrily at Lugnut and nodded. "Yes sir, I would."

Ironhide nodded. "Good." He turned to Lugnut. "Get tha' hell outta here and don't be comin' back."

"Slag you 'Hide." Lugnut grumbled, but as any leverage his noble status would have granted him was now overruled by the presence of a Pax, he eventually turned and marched to the door, knocking over one more table and pushing aside several patrons on his way out.

Ironhide turned to Roller and Orion. "You two get the hell outta here too. Ah may not be issuing any restraining orders fer you two, but ah better not see you in here again until you've reached the age of self-determination."

Roller took a step toward the door, but Orion gripped his arm lightly to stop him before turning to Ironhide. "I appreciate that sir, but the fact is that we are under the age of self-determination, we knew that being here would constitute a crime prior to us entering the establishment, and we entered anyway, lying to the bouncer in the process." Roller glared disbelievingly at Orion, a glare that Orion met with a look of sorrow. "You may someday rule these people; you must show them that you are as bound by the law as they are. It is what is expected of House Pax. It is one of the things that sets your House apart from others, and it is something that you should be very proud of." Orion, standing nearly a head taller than Ironhide, looked into the constable's optics. "We surrender ourselves to you, and will accept the appropriate punishment."

Ironhide was stunned that his offer for them to walk away wasn't taken, but a look of impressed approval washed over his face. "Alright, Orion, Roller Pax, Ah, Ironhide, Head Constable of Polarus and the surrounding villages, acting under the authority of Arlon Pax, Emir of The Torus Heights, do hereby place ya both under arrest. Ya are entitled to a trial with a jury consisting of yer peers, but if ya are of current sound mind ya may forego that right and choose to plead guilty and submit yerselves to a sentence of mah choosing." Ironhide leaned in close. "How much have ya imbibed?"

Roller glared back at the table that they had been sitting at with Dion moments before, and took in the sight of three full vials of engex. "One sip."

Orion remained looking at Ironhide. "I've had none, sir."

Ironhide shrugged. "Good enough for me. How do you wish to proceed?"

Orion looked at Roller, who stared back at him with subdued anger and grumbled. "You've gotten us this far, you might as well see it through for us."

Orion smiled and nodded before turning back to Ironhide. "We both plead guilty and will submit to your decision on punishment."

Ironhide glanced at Roller Pax, who nodded his agreement. The constable then looked them both over before rendering his decision. "Ah sentence ya both to three hundred hours of community service to be completed within a six month time period."

"Three hundred hours!" Roller grumbled before looking accusingly at Orion. "You were supposed to keep me OUT of trouble!"

"Roller Pax," Ironhide continued, "you will spend your time working at the Polarus hospitals and adolescenters doing maintenance work or whatever else they choose for you to do."

Roller just continued looking agitatedly up at Orion. "Three hundred hours."

"Orion, well, the Polarus Constabulary can always use another set of hands." Ironhide smirked. "Who knows, it may just be the direction you choose to go in life."


	3. Chapter 3

Roller Pax

"The skepticism is encouraged, and perhaps even justified by the lack of detailed evidence and data regarding the events. We have established that as a species we'd existed in our current general form for at least five million years prior to the events depicted in these legends, but despite that more than adequate timeframe and our nature as a technological species, our society was unable to capture what would be considered the minimum level of detailed evidence required for any other claim to be given any level of serious credence in our current modern society." Roller explained to A-Three and Orion as holographic images of numerous pieces of artwork illustrating Cybertronians battling an army of Sparkeaters were projected one at a time over the table in the center of the room.

"So am I to infer from what you just said that you do not believe in the Sparkeater Invasion, or that the Knights of Cybertron rose to rally our species and push back their onslaught, killing most and driving the survivors back into depths of the Great Pit, nearly to the Inferno, and sealing them there behind the Tartarun Gates?" A-Three asked, an unreadable look on his face.

"I…" Roller hesitated, "I guess yes, some of it may be based in historical fact, but we should have some sort of historical evidence to support it if it were true as the legends claim. It'd be one thing if these Sparkeaters were a faction of Cybertronians or creatures that exist in our Genetic Database, but they're mythical beasts with abilities that defy what we know to be true of living things."

"The Tartarun Gates exist, they qualify as evidence." Orion chimed in.

"So does that mean you are a believer, Constable?" A-Three turned to Orion.

Orion chuckled. "Not necessarily. I suppose I'm with Roller in that there was something that inspired these legends, but much of it can't possibly be true." The young robot twisted nervously. "And please don't call me Constable, I'm not even a cadet. I'm a delinquent working off my debt to society."

"Uh, O, three hundred hours was met awhile back." Roller replied. "Our debt to society has been repaid, Ironhide must be charging you a ridiculous amount of interest if you think you're still required to be out there."

A-Three smiled. "Orion is well aware that the requirement has been met, he may have just found his calling very early in life. That is a blessing."

"He's doing it for free." Roller grumbled as he looked at Orion.

"House Pax has been beyond gracious in providing me all basic requirements. Why would I demand payment for something I would choose to do with my free time?" Orion replied, but pondered something for a moment before continuing. "To be honest though, perhaps I should discuss an appointment to the Academy with Ironhide, or maybe his offer of on the job training. If accepted, the Academy would provide me room and board, or if I choose Ironhide's offer of employment I would be able to afford my own place."

"Whoah, wait a minute." Roller objected, taking a step toward Orion who was on the other side of the small-to-midsized classroom. "I thought you were fine with your room. If you'd like a bigger one, I know Arlon…"

"No, you misunderstand me. I am fine with my room, I have no need for more, but the fact is that I have no right to it. I live here, but my function is not to provide maintenance or any other service to Tyger Pax. Your family has been beyond charitable to me, and I am beyond grateful." Orion explained. "But I am nearly at a point where I no longer require such charity. It is time I took steps to stop being an imposition on House Pax."

"An imposition on House Pax?" Roller stared at his friend stunned. "You ARE a Pax!"

Orion looked at his friend in confusion before an odd smile crept onto his face and he looked to A-Three. "Would you like to tell him?"

"Oh I know you're not a slaggin' Pax, smart ass!" Roller snapped.

"Language!" A-Three growled.

"Sorry." Roller replied back before continuing. "I know you're not technically a Pax, but you are a Pax. What did Arlon say the last time you tried to suggest that you didn't belong at the main table with us ingesting energon for the House Meal?"

Orion looked down and paused for a moment before replying, a hint of embarrassment in his voice. "That he'd used his hind legs to kick me through the wall if I ever made such a suggestion again. He then told me to sit down and tell him about my day."

"I am hesitant to agree with Lord Roller, and by doing so contradict social norms and even certain laws, but you do seem to have been accepted by House Pax in an informal manner." A-Three said to Orion. "Which you clearly know, and for whatever reason…are bothered by. Why does it bother you to be seen as an equal and a member of a great House by those in said House? Especially when the House is the only one devoid of duplicity and treachery? You know they are not lifting you up just to dash your common frame to the rocks, don't you?"

"Of course I know. Every member of House Pax is the very epitome of honor; the only one capable of any degree of deception is my best friend who I trust with every aspect of my life, and that deception is limited to good natured jokes and shenanigans." Orion replied. "It's not that I have any fear for my well-being that bothers me, it's that I don't deserve such fortune. I've done nothing to earn it, and there are so many out there with so much less."

"Well, yes, inequity is a fact of life, but that does not mean you should not accept good fortune when comes your way." A-Three replied.

"It's not just with House Pax embracing me." Orion continued. "I…There are those who have adequate or even ample resources, but they are physically disadvantaged. Individuals who have sustained injuries that their frames have been unable to heal properly; sometimes minor injuries or ailments that should be no problem for them leave them incapacitated."

"Yes, that's another part of the inequity of life." A-Three answered. "Spark strength varies, frame capabilities vary, the quality of our lives hinge on so much that is beyond our control. Even those with the resources to stack the deck in their favor as much as possible by putting what they perceive to be the most quality elements into their hot spots rarely get anything more healthy than protoforms emerging from the most common of pools."

"But what of me? I don't even deserve to exist." Orion snapped. "I didn't even come from a pool, I came from the side of a road, consisting of nothing but stone, dirt and whatever common ore you find near roads. I should never have been born, and when I was born, I should have never have been found, left to starve in the middle of nowhere, unknown and un-mourned."

"Oh, sorry, let me get my hat." Roller replied sarcastically. "I didn't know this was going to be a pity party."

"Piss off." Orion grumbled. "I'm just pointing out that despite being an aberration, an unclean sub-Cybertronian, I've been gifted with everything. I practically have the rights and privileges of not just a noble, but a royal, and my health…I, I just don't understand." He looked at A-Three. "There was a circuit-speeder lab in downtown Polarus, Ironhide arranged a raid and wanted me to observe from a safe distance. The raid didn't really go to plan, a firefight ensued, as well as an actual fire when some of the speeder vats exploded. The lab was in the basement of a building that had apartments in the upper levels. A lot of the tenants were scurrying out, and putting themselves in the line of fire, so I charged in to help them. One guy…he, he took a hit to the mid-section, a shot that should be painful, but something that with adequate treatment he should bounce back from. I went to retrieve him and wound up getting four shots to my torso, two right over my spark chamber. I should have been critically wounded, perhaps even terminally wounded; I had dents and scorch marks. I grabbed the guy and carried him to safety. I then ran back into the building, taking a few more shots which again, did little more than sting. I charged up the stairs, grabbed several individuals that couldn't make it out; whatever obstacles that had been keeping them from escaping were nothing to me, flames and debris that battered their frames were mere annoyances. I made one more trip into the habitation suites in the upper levels to verify there were no more citizens before charging down and taking out the drug producers. They were armed, I wasn't; they didn't have a chance."

A-Three looked down, seeming to understand what was troubling the young robot, while Roller just stared at his best friend. "Yeah, you're slagging awesome! We know that, we've always known that!"

"But why?" Orion snapped, almost yelling. "When I tell people of my origins they express surprise. I should be feeble, I'm lucky to be alive, my frame should be brittle, ready to crumble due to the sub-par materials that it consists of. Yet I'm shrugging off energy blasts, I'm beating the hell out of armed gangs of hardened criminals with my bare hands, I'm practically knocking out surgically enhanced gigantic gladiators with a single punch, which, truth be told, I dialed back more than a little, and environments that cripple or incapacitate most other Cybertronians are barely more than unpleasant to me. And that citizen with the minor energy wound to his mid-section? His spark gave within minutes of getting him to the hospital."

A-Three continued looking down, deep in thought. "You're not made of dirt. I've examined the samples of your frame that I scraped off during your initial physical testing. Torenia is right, you don't appear to have been spawned in any known hotspot in our database, but you definitely don't originate from material found on a roadside. You don't appear to originate from material found anywhere in the Torus Heights."

Orion stared at A-Three. "Yet you referred to me as an unnatural anomaly, a seemingly very healthy specimen but my constitution was constructed of materials and in a way that would likely lead to my death." His optics narrowed. "Those were your words."

A-Three met his glare. "I thought you agreed that you would not look at your medical file."

"He didn't." Roller stated.

"Oh, I see." A-Three shifted his glare to Roller Pax.

"And before you as…"

"Yes, I know he wouldn't and didn't ask you to do it," A-Three interrupted, "and were I forced to guess, you probably had to blurt it out to him before he realized what you were telling him to keep him from insisting that you not tell him." A-Three noticed the look of surprise on Roller's face. "You're not the only one that has come to know Orion well!" A-Three turned to Orion and looked at him earnestly. "I put those words into your file as a favor to Torenia."

Orion was startled. "What?"

"You weren't born in a hotspot, but you weren't born on a roadside near Burthov either." A-Three looked intently at Orion. "I confronted Torenia, she insisted that's where she found you, I pressed her for over an hour, showing her your test results and explaining their implications repeatedly, but she never changed her story. But after that discussion, while her words remained unchanged, her optics were moved. She asked me to keep all findings to myself, and if possible, discourage anyone else from looking into you on any level. So I did. You asked why you are gifted with so much that you feel you do not deserve. Well young one, deserve them! Don't refuse the gifts you're given; accept them, appreciate them, and use them to better yourself, so that in time, you can better the world!" A-Three let that sink in for a few moments before turning and glaring at Roller. "You claim he's your best friend, to love him like a brother? You will prove it by never letting a word spoken here leave this room! I don't know the details, but a noble femme, and by noble I'm NOT referring to her birthright, was made more desperate than I would have imagined her capable of, and I have a hell of an imagination! She loves this boy, so do you," A-Three turned and looked at Orion, "so do I. This discussion ends here and now, and you will never again pry into his background, do you understand?"

Roller nodded, his face a display of complete humility and submission. "Yes Sir."

"Good." He then leaned back against the wall, his features softened, and he looked at his students. "Now, back to the topic at hand. I am pleased to hear that you both bear skepticism, and refrain from believing everything you hear, but it does trouble me that you so easily dismiss what is considered to be fact by so many that were wiser than the two of you."

"We do not dismiss it, Sir. I, and in all likelihood Roller as well, bear no disrespect for those that believe these histories," Orion explained humbly, "merely that there's a burden of proof required for me to consider something fact, and the events depicted in these legends have not come close to meeting that. I'm not saying that they did not happen, and for whatever reason anything in the way of firsthand accounts and historical evidence is all but non-existent for events prior to fourteen million years ago, so the absence of supporting evidence is by no means evidence of contradiction. But when what's being depicted is fantastical, there needs to be more than oral tradition."

"I see. I think it's past time I asked Arlon to schedule a trip to the Gates for the two of you." A-Three replied as he accessed his internal chronometer. "It's also time to dismiss the two of you for the day. The Primal Inauguration begins soon, and Arlon would be furious if I allowed the two of you to miss the broadcast."

"Cool, let's meet in the Tygerium, I love the screen there." Roller suggested. "And Orion, if you suggest you're not worthy to watch it there I'll do what the drug gang and burning building couldn't and beat you into a coma."

Orion chuckled. "Lead the way."

A-Three smiled as the two youngsters left the room, but his face took a more serious tone as he knew that Torenia Pax's attempts to keep interest in her foundling would fall short as Orion continued to display his gifts, even with A-Three's help. Perhaps if he were to find out Orion's true origins, he might be able to put a plan into place that would protect him better.

Arlon Pax

He had known Sentinel Honorum for nearly a million years, almost the soon-to-be Prime's entire life. He had first met him after the disappearance of Guardian Prime. Like almost everyone else on Cybertron, the young Sentinel considered the missing Prime to be virtually flawless, above reproach, the Cybertronian ideal in every way, and there was really no reason that Arlon could see to change that perception in the youth. But here, now, moments away from that former youth becoming the ruler of Cybertron, Arlon of House Pax, Emir of the Torus Heights, was having regrets about that decision. Power corrupts even the most noble and ideal of individuals, and knowing that going in was really the only chance of avoiding it. Zeta Prime was a deeply flawed individual, but his saving grace was that he was aware of each and every flaw. Sentinel Honorum possessed no such humility, and without a Matrix to magically enlighten him, there was no reason to expect Sentinel Prime to somehow acquire the trait.

But such concerns served no purpose, Arlon conceded as his quadrupedal body entered the forum and he sought out the seating apparatus designed to accommodate his frame. It would not be easy to find in the chaos, thousands of Cybertronians crowding into the Senate Forum made any movement difficult to say the least, especially for one that could not turn sideways to a flatter profile. The subdued and respectful tone for Zeta Prime's funeral was not being repeated for this less solemn occasion, but Arlon Pax continued to slowly make his way toward the box that Xaaron had told him was reserved for him. What was worse than the pressing and commotion were the looks that he was getting.

He had not left the Torus Heights in eons, and was regretting leaving it now. The gawking, the whispered insults and the condescending grins and comments were almost more than he could endure. No, he could endure it, he could endure anything for his house, his people or his emirate, but for Sentinel Honorum and his ascension to Cybertron's highest seat, this was getting a bit too much. Fortunately he finally caught sight of the box with his name on it. As he pressed his way through the rest of the crowd and got a good look at it, he was surprised to see how ornately decorated it was, and how trays of energon shavings and a vial of engex were laid out in a manner that would be easily accessible for one of his body type; a tremendous amount of consideration and opulence for one thought of as a lesser species by most of the planet. As he entered it, thankful to be away from the pressing frames, he saw a datapad on the platform waiting for him. He activated it with his right front paw and read the ornately written letter.

"Dear Arlon of House Pax, Emir of the great Torus Heights, devoted champion of Cybertron and honored and eternal friend of House Honorum,

It is with tremendous elation and gratitude that I welcome you to Cybertropolis. You were an inspiration, comrade, advisor and friend to my brother Gallus, and I would be honored if you were to be the same for me. Our emirates are neighbors and have always been the closest of friends despite the differences in population and wealth, but I would like to extend and enhance the friendship of our two lands, and with me now having dominion over all of Cybertron, I am in a position to see that the northern states are in a position to receive a greater portion of the fruits of our planet.

We are natural allies, and I'm sure you recognize that there are those that are natural adversaries to our mutual values. I would like to meet with you after the ceremony to discuss several things, and in the coming days would be honored if you would escort me through your tranquil and beautiful emirate.

I look forward to our meeting as well as our journey to the Torus Heights.

Best regards,

Sentinel of House Honorum, soon to be Prime"

Arlon stared at the words laid out before him and wondered apprehensively what exactly the soon-to-be Prime had in mind, and why he was so interested in the emir of north. He quelled these worries as he watched Senator Xaaron walk out to begin what was about to begin. Arlon grumbled, once again frustrated with a decision made by his oldest friend. Sentinel Honorum had much to offer Cybertron, but he lacked the disposition, temperament and overall comprehension of the role to be an adequate Prime. But he acknowledged that a Prime was needed to keep the emirates in line; the Senate lacked any sort of teeth or the symbolism to rally the other emirates to a mutual cause. If nothing else, Sentinel exuded strength, and was respected by all. Even those Houses that despised him respected his strength and determination, and would be foolish to cross him. But still, Arlon thought, there had to be a better choice.

"Arlon Pax!"

The leader of House Pax lifted his gaze from the data pad to see a tall, ornately designed and slender robot approaching him, one that he hadn't seen in more vorns than he would like to count. "Pathos Nexus, it has been a long time."

The head of the ruling House of Altihex smiled as he approached the outside of Arlon's box. "So it takes the naming of a new Prime to get you out of The Torus Heights."

Arlon smiled, which gave an almost frightening appearance on his bestial head. "I was inclined not to come, but Sentinel Honorum was most insistent that the Emir of The Torus Heights, and I assume all other emirates, be present for the coronation. I am not one to refuse a Primal Decree."

"Yes, even us southern emirates were given special invitations." Pathos replied. "Perhaps House Honorum has gotten past its old biases. Both against the South and those Houses that elevate commoners by adopting them into their houses." The Emir of Altihex peered intently at Arlon. "Being that you've been so…inaccessible these last many vorns, I'm not sure what your stance is on my adoption of Starscream."

Arlon met the stare and nodded. "While I have undoubtedly benefitted from my place of birth, and it would seem hypocritical of me to make this claim, I've never placed much importance in nobility. I've long since accepted the way of things on Cybertron; making changes within my own homeland has proven difficult enough so that I have no illusions that I will ever change things on a planetary level. So I play my role, but I will always judge a being on its merit; its true merit, and not the pit that it crawled out of. If a noble finds someone worthy of a title, and they feel this individual will improve their world with the added power and resources, then I am all for such an adoption."

Pathos grinned. "You always were the most progressive of us all."

Arlon continued his stare. "With all that said, I hope that there is a great deal more to this Starscream than what I'm aware of. I look to factors other than physical beauty and flight when determining worthiness."

Pathos smiled. "I know how it seems, you will simply have to trust my judgment when it comes to Starscream."

Arlon nodded. "I suppose I will." A hush fell over the crowd as the Senators and various religious leaders streamed into the forum, letting everyone know that the proceedings were about to begin. "Looks like it's time for you to take your seat."

Ironhide

Youth was a peculiar concept on Cybertron, it seemed less a lack of age or experience and more the fulfillment of a societal expectation. Most of the patrons in 'The Oil Works' were at least ten thousand years old, more than old enough to achieve as much wisdom and experience as virtually anyone else on the planet, but due to their relative youth compared to the rest of their species, they continued to act immature and even childish in many aspects of their lives. This was basically a bar catering to the hip, younger crowd, and Ironhide always felt very out of place here, but he actually enjoyed that fact. If anything, him being there made the patrons more uncomfortable than he would ever feel. And given the comparative lack of maturity displayed here as opposed to other bars, he was here fairly regularly. He walked through the pub, noting the subdued atmosphere that countered the way the bar typically was, even so early in the afternoon. This was likely due to the recently ended broadcast of the Primal Inauguration, which even here had been not only on the view screens, but actually paid attention to in a moderately quiet environment. Ironhide made his way through the bar, looking over all the vastly younger faces; all vastly younger save one. The constable was stunned to see A-Three seated in the corner of the bar, trying not to get his attention, but making no effort to hide himself. At seeing that he'd been noticed, A-Three shrugged and waved Ironhide over to the seat across the small table from him.

"Excuse me sir, but may I see proof of your age of self-determination?" Ironhide chuckled as he slid into the seat.

A-Three grinned at the comment. "Would you believe that I genuinely do not have any? The concept of age of self-determination came out long after I'd reached it. In fact, unless my information creep is worse than I suspect, I believe I came up with the concept of an age of self-determination." The old bots shared a smile as A-Three glanced around the bar. "Though from the behavior of many of these bar-goers, I think I may have to up that age a few thousand vorns."

"Ahh, they ain't so bad." Ironhide chuckled lightly. "You should see this place after the sun goes down."

"I'll take your word for it." A-Three replied.

"So what are you doing here? I was under the impression that you never leave Tyger Pax." Ironhide asked, genuinely surprised to see the old bot.

"I swing up to the Tartarun Gates from time to time." A-Three replied.

"Funny, every so often I give ol' Kup a call, and he's never mentioned seeing you." Ironhide answered.

"I have ways in and out of that place, and I like to keep to myself." A-Three answered.

"Ways in and out of the place?"

"Don't worry, it's not a security concern that Lord Commander Kup needs to be made aware of." A-Three tried to assuage the worry in Ironhide that the Gates weren't as secure as he had previously thought. "I spent more than a few vorns as acting Lord Commander of the Gates myself; and I still have my secrets from that time. But nothing that can be used by foes from within or without."

"Well, if you were anyone other than Primon…"

"Quiet!" Despite Ironhide's whispered tone, A-Three still snapped and hissed his reply. "I AM someone other than Primon!"

"OK, OK, settle down there." Ironhide answered, holding his hands up defensively. "Just letting you know that were you…anybody else, I'd definitely be letting Kup know that his house isn't as secure as he thought." The red lawman paused for a few moments before continuing. "Buuut, since we're on the topic of who you may or may not have once been,"

"Don't." A-Three interrupted. "Arlon Pax cornered me in his study and pressed me for hours to do what you're about to ask of me, and he did it well before the inauguration. Trust me, if I said no to him, the answer to you in a bar full of protoforms after Sentinel has been named Prime will not be any different."

"OK, I won't push, but I can sense you're not altogether enamored with Sentinel." Ironhide commented. "What made Gallus different from him? From what I understand, you pretty much thought the world of Gallus Honorum the moment you met him, and had him pegged as the next Prime right away. No such feeling from Sentinel?"

"I wouldn't know, I've never met Sentinel." A-Three replied, staring vacantly at the drink in his hand. "But yes, I knew right away that Gallus would be accepted by the Matrix, and believed he'd be the greatest of Primes."

"Well, I knew Guardian Prime, so I can see what you're talking about. I suppose he must have been pretty damn heroic and awe-inspiring as Gallus too." Ironhide commented.

"He was. If anything, Gallus was more inspiring." A-Three mused, still staring into the liquid housed within his transparent flask. "But there was more than that. He fit a prophecy."

"A prophecy?" The surprised Ironhide asked. "Something from the Knights?"

"No, believe it or not, older than the Knights." A-Three explained as he gently shook his flask causing the engex to swirl around within it. "And alien. I'm sure you've heard the legends of an organic race that ruled Cybertron before us, that lorded over our earliest ancestors. Well, apparently they were a space-faring species and on occasion entertained guests from other worlds. I was researching what I believed to be their attempt to purge us at one point, and in my research came across details of one of these visits. The designation given to the world these aliens came from was LV117, and apparently there were some temporal irregularities with this planet. One of the side effects due to these irregularities was that they apparently had some degree of clairvoyance. They provided a prophecy to our predecessors that detailed the emergence of a Prime promised to save our planet as well as many others, defeating great evils, and spreading freedom and justice throughout the galaxy. What stood out to me was that the most direct translation was Prime, not king, prince, leader, but Prime; a term that would emerge as a title of leader independently millions of years later." A-Three finally looked up at Ironhide and displayed an awkward smile. "Anyway, Gallus seemed to fit the prophecy to the letter."

"So what was this prophecy?" Ironhide asked, genuinely interested.

A-Three shook his head sadly. "Nothing. A false prophecy, like all other prophecies not based on statistical data or fore-knowledge. This one seemed to line up with Gallus out of coincidence, nothing more." A-Three pushed his drink away. "Forget I mentioned it."

Ironhide nodded. "Fine, Ah get it." He then looked down at the data pad on the table in front of A-Three. "So what are you doing here?"

A-Three shrugged. "Needed to get out of Tyger Pax, wanted to watch the inauguration without anyone recognizing me, figured this would be a good place. And it was, until you walked in."

Ironhide grinned. "And the reading material?"

"Am I under investigation Constable?" A-Three joked before running his fingers over the pad. "Just a little research. Geologic in nature."

"Geologic?"

A-Three considered changing the subject, but realized that if anyone could be trusted, it was Ironhide, and even then he was not going to give him the true nature of what he was researching. "Just indulging an old hobby of mine. Trying to see if and what materials other than what's already considered sentio-compatible can be used to create a protoform, and where those material exist on our world."

Ironhide looked at him in confusion, then potential realization seeped into his thoughts. "Any particular reason for renewing this hobby?"

A-Three looked at Ironhide intently. "No."

Ironhide nodded his understanding. "Gotcha." A beeping emerged from Ironhide's wrist communicator. "Ughn, excuse me, duty calls." Ironhide peered down at a newly revealed screen on his wrist and a look of surprise came over his face. "What?" He opened the channel with a mental command. "Prowl?"

"Hello Ironhide," Prowl's voice came through a small speaker on his wrist, "it's been awhile."

"Yes it has." Ironhide replied in a not altogether friendly tone. "Why are you calling?"

"Have you been assigning cold cases to your officers?" Prowl asked, his tone equally unfriendly.

A look of realization came over Ironhide. "I have a recruit who has not as of yet gone through academy training, so to get him up to speed I suggested he go over old case files in his free time. Why?"

"Your recruit just solved the 'The Spark Collector' case." Prowl replied in a matter of fact manner. Ironhide looked stunned; A-Three looked terrified.

Ironhide noted the look of terror on his companion's face as he answered. "What do you mean he solved it? You mean he took a crack at it and his guess wasn't bad? The Collector case is two hundred vorns old and unsolvable, it's one of those great unsolved crimes that cops like to think we'd have cracked had we been in the area at the time."

"He named Arn Kozminius as the killer." Prowl replied.

"Kozminius?" Ironhide questioned, noting that the binomial nomenclature typically indicated a noble, but that it was a house he was unfamiliar with.

"House Kozminius was a minor house in Nyon until the rise of Deathsaurus." A-Three quietly explained. "House Onyx took their lands and holdings, exiled them from Nyon but to this day House Onyx sends any protoforms to emerge from their ancestral pit to them, usually in a crate. It is common for the protoforms not to survive the process."

"Right." Ironhide replied.

"Yes, whoever you're with is correct, Arn was a member of this displaced house still clinging to a sense of nobility. Anyway, using what little information that could be found in public databases and whatever you gave him access to, this Orion of yours prepared a psychological profile of Kozminius that not only paints him as a good fit, but damn near matches the one we put together for the Collector."

"So what, this Arn Kozminius died around that time or what? Why did he end his killing spree?" Ironhide asked skeptically.

"No, he's very much alive, though he's been in a disembodied state for nearly that entire time." Prowl replied. "He was admitted to an insane asylum shortly after the last Collector murder at the request of his House, he was diagnosed with asymmetric reasoning and aural hallucinations, but after he was admitted he became increasingly violent to the point where the doctors recommended the removal of his spark and brain module from a physical frame. He's been there ever since."

"It'd take more than a psych profile to convict someone for a two hundred vorn crime." Ironhide replied.

"Look, you obviously haven't seen the case this recruit of yours has put together." Prowl shot back. "It's virtually air tight. How old is this Orion? I can't find anything on him in the database."

Ironhide sighed and gave an apologetic look to A-Three. "About five weeks."

"He's been your recruit for five weeks?"

"No, he's been my recruit for less than four." Ironhide clarified. "He's been around for about five."

There was a long pause before Prowl finally came back. "Been around, as in been alive? Are you telling me he emerged from the most recent Vectoral Pulse?"

"That's what I was told." Ironhide replied, staring into A-Three's frightened face. "If you want any further information about the lad you'll need to check with House Pax."

"He's a Pax?" Prowl questioned, surprise clearly etched into his voice.

"No, not really, he's just, hell, I don't know." Ironhide tried to explain without giving too much away. "They've kinda taken him in and are raising him. He's like a brother to Roller Pax, the new…"

"Yes, I'm aware of Roller." Prowl replied. "I'll respectfully go through the proper channels, but I'm interested in learning more about this Orion. For someone barely out of the protoformal stage to solve one of our planet's most notorious unsolved crimes is worthy of attention. You may have greatness on your hands and not even know it."

"Believe me Prowl, House Pax is well aware of what they have with Orion, and they are nurturing his potential." Ironhide snapped.

"I know, but perhaps he would be of greater service in a larger…"

"At his age nobody should be worried about how he can serve anything." Ironhide interrupted. "When he's at an appropriate age, he can decide who, what or where he wants to serve."

"And until then I guess he can just do your job for you, is that it?" Prowl growled back.

"I'm helpin' him, and he loves the work!" Ironhide snapped. "And he's safe here. You put him on the streets of Iacon or Cybertropolis or wherever you wanna stick him, and he could get his spark snuffed!"

"This isn't Rodion or Tarn, Ironhide, and I don't want to drag him away from his home!" Prowl snapped as well. "I merely am interested in getting to know him better!"

"He's not an asset to be utilized for the glory of House Honorum!" Ironhide snarled.

"That isn't what this is about and you slaggin' know it!"

"All I slaggin' know is that if you want any more information about Orion, I would suggest you go through Arlon Pax." Ironhide warned. "But I suggest you tread lightly, Prowl, because Lord Pax is very protective of the kid." Ironhide disconnected the call with Prowl and looked at A-Three. The two stared at one another for several moments before Ironhide's optics lowered down to the data pad. "I pray ta' Primus that whatever materials you find in your research fall within the borders of the Torus Heights."

A-Three nodded. "As do I."

Lightwave

The inauguration was about what he had expected, and while he usually enjoyed his visits to the planetary capital, he was happy to be home. He watched as the shuttle carrying him touched down on the landing pad outside Castle Fluctus of House Torrent. Moments later he was marching into the vast structure, brushing off servants and guards as he made his way toward the lab. Up ahead he saw someone that he couldn't simply brush off, his kinsman Soundwave had been tasked with running the emirate while Lightwave was watching Sentinel Honorum get what he felt he had deserved since he was a protoform. "Anything to report Soundwave?"

"Negative Lightwave, status, unchanged." Soundwave replied in his almost lifeless way.

"Good." Lightwave approached and beckoned Soundwave to walk with him. "Shockwave was supposed to meet me in Cybertropolis. The other houses are interested in meeting our scientific prodigy, yet he has once again chosen to embarrass the House in favor of whatever nonsense has piqued his interest today."

"I cannot say what he is doing or his motivation for not leaving for Nova Cronum this morning, all I know is that he has been in the lab all day." Soundwave replied.

"I will deal with him. I understand you have plans to travel, go ahead. I will contact you if I need to ask anything of you." Lightwave said as he continued ahead toward the laboratory.

Several minutes later he reached his destination and burst into the room, causing the hulking purple robot on the far side to merely turn his head. "Hello Lightwave."

"Why were you not in Cybertropolis today?" Lightwave demanded, clearly irritated. "Your presence was expected."

"I don't care." Shockwave replied. "My presence was not going to change the outcome of whether Sentinel Honorum was named Prime or not."

"We have an image to maintain!" Lightwave snarled. "Despite your best efforts, word of your intellect has gotten out and people want to meet the genius of House Torrent."

"Why should I care what they want?" Shockwave asked as he continued working on whatever he was working on. "I'm in the middle of something important, but you suggest that I put that aside to cater to the whims of people I don't know or care to know?"

"Whether you want to acknowledge it or not, image is vitally important, as is maintaining relationships with the other ruling houses." Lightwave replied. "When you fail to show up to the naming of a Prime, you show an utter disrespect for our culture to everyone else."

"I don't respect our culture." Shockwave replied disinterestedly.

"You don't get to enjoy the perks of being a royal and then make such a claim!" Lightwave replied angrily.

Shockwave was silent for a moment, seeming to ignore the comment while focused on the work he was doing on the six screens in front of his nearly featureless face, but after nearly a minute he finally replied. "If standing in our society were based on merit and not place of birth, do you truly believe that I would be any worse off?" Shockwave finally turned to address the head of his House. "I am brilliant, perhaps the most efficient administrator, tactician and scientist on the planet, and physically, well, the gifts of my large frame pale in comparison to the power that it houses within. I would find financing for any endeavor I would ever wish to take, and I would have acquired my own wealth in very little time at all. Believe me, were this society of ours to crumble, I would have no problem positioning myself within the elite. The 'Shock' is far more than the 'Wave'."

Lightwave stared at the glowing orb that made out the only feature within Shockwave's helmeted face. "And there it is, you've officially said it. You are greater than your house. Do you consider yourself to be greater than Fluctus himself?"

"I do not know, The Knights of Cybertron were long dead prior to my birth. I would have to meet him to fully evaluate him." Shockwave replied before turning back around. "Frankly Lightwave, I would think you would be happy that I am so disinterested in what you find important."

"Oh, and why is that?" Lightwave snarled.

"Because I would take what is yours." Shockwave replied matter of factly. "I'm smarter, and as I've mentioned, I'm a better administrator, I would run this emirate with ease. But because I have no interest in doing so, you're free to maintain your position."

"As gifted as you apparently think you are, you are a faceless, arrogant shut-in with no appeal whatsoever to the other members of this great house, they would never select you over me!" Lightwave replied angrily.

"I can have facial reconstruction anytime I wish, I just don't care about anything as petty as my appearance." Shockwave replied, his voice still filled with ambivalence. "Though physical attraction is at the core of what I'm currently researching, if you'd care to see."

"You're researching romance?" Lightwave replied, stunned.

"I'm researching factors causing sparks to be drawn to other sparks in different ways, romantic tendencies are just one of those." Shockwave replied. "It has been theorized for millions of years that factors within sparks that develop the metallico around them into masculine forms are what cause those masculine robots to be drawn toward feminine forms, or perhaps the sparks housed within feminine forms, and vice versa, but until now they have only been theories. I have identified and quantified the energy output…frequencies, for lack of a better term, that cause most 'male' sparks to be drawn, and the same for 'female' sparks; at least in the majority of the population. There are those that seem to be attracted to the same gender, I would guess somewhere between eight and twelve percent."

Lightwave laughed. "All that research, just to confirm what everyone on the planet has already known for millions of years. If you were so brilliant, you'd have come up with something new or worthwhile!"

"I have." Shockwave replied, no indication of annoyance or offense in his voice. "The romantic aspect was just a mild diversion and an adequate segue into the main focus; the bulk of my study was in lesser known qualities. Less about desire, more…cooperation and enhancement."

"Meaning what?"

"Some sparks give off energy frequencies that can interact with other sparks, an interaction that either allows the individual to come closer to their established potential or somehow increases their potential; I haven't determined which is the case yet." Shockwave explained. "The crew of workers that you hired to rebuild the amphitheater have proven to be excellent examples, the ones Hook and Scrapper are scientifically inclined enough to volunteer their team to the service of my study. The ones designated Bonecrusher and Scavenger are quite dim when you talk to them individually, but when the six of them are together they all become beyond proficient in their work."

"That means nothing, even idiots have a niche they're good at." Lightwave replied.

"That's true, but I conducted several tests where I would isolate them and have them perform a task, then have them perform an equivalent task while in the presence of the others." Shockwave explained. "They were very competent on their own, but the level of proficiency while with their comrades in relative proximity was significantly raised; it's a hard thing to measure, but I would estimate their enhancement in proficiency to be roughly ten percent." Shockwave walked over to a computer screen at another table and directed Lightwave's attention to it. "I've theorized that there are various ways to capitalize on this spark compatibility beyond simple competence enhancement. Some of my theories involve some concepts that seem to defy possibility, but my initial calculations seem to support them. They would involve physical alterations, but if accurate, the results could be…astounding."

Lightwave peered at the shapes on the screen for several moments before ceasing his attempts to make sense of them. "I don't know what I'm looking at, and frankly, I don't care. I forbid you from continuing down this line of study. If you're interested in sparks, you may see if there are ways to make mine," the elder member of the house looked at Shockwave's broad chest enviously, "more like yours. I would encourage that, but the rest of this, it's all an abomination and it will no longer be done in my house!"

Mirage Decimus

There had been a change in how he was treated by this collection of riff-raff lately. The vast majority of the scum and lower nobles that came to these events still regarded him with the respectful distance and hidden disrespectful glares, but some of those running the event, just a handful really, had taken to displaying knowing smiles when they greeted him, as if they had a secret involving him that he was unaware of, and it was most disconcerting. Worst of all was that adopted fop Starscream, who had recently started wrapping his arm around Mirage's shoulders and talking about how wonderful it was to have House Decimus supporting these events.

It was a confusing statement, and when he asked for elaboration, Starscream just smiled and said something about Mirage's presence meaning so much. The most irritating part was that these cryptic little comments had only come about in the last several weeks, since the death of Zeta, and Mirage couldn't help but believe they were related. Now that a Decimus no longer held the mantle of Prime, it was apparently OK to joke about a Decimus being at these gladiatorial events. As though while Zeta Prime were still alive, Mirage's presence at the illegal and illicit events was above being mentioned, but now it was safe to be joked about. Mirage never minded jokes or good natured fun-poking, but it was the timing that irritated him, as if to suggest he were suddenly vulnerable and lowered to the same level as a baseborn with the good fortune to be elevated into a royal house.

The funny thing was that he used to enjoy Starscream's company immensely back when the flier was just a commoner. Despite his low birth he had gone out of his way to educate himself to a level where he was able to speak as an equal to almost anyone on almost any subject. And his low upbringing made him well versed in the vulgarity that Mirage and others of his station did enjoy listening to on occasion. But Starscream's ascension to House Nexus was not well received by most nobles, Mirage included, and his view of the winged robot had changed. And the air of entitlement that Starscream immediately adopted didn't help that view in the least.

Mirage looked through the crowd and almost on cue, saw the grinning, winged form of the robot he had just been thinking about. There was no avoiding him, so Mirage just displayed a subdued smile and greeted the robot. "Hello Starscream. Let me guess, it's wonderful to see House Decimus supporting these events."

"It certainly is." Starscream bantered back. "You and I have a special treat in store for us on the undercard."

"Oh, and what's that?" The skeptical Mirage asked.

"A pair from that anti-nobility group are fighting some hard cases from Tarn." Starscream happily reported as the two made their way toward the boxes reserved for VIP's.

"Ah, so I get to see some Autobots get dismantled." Mirage muttered with a smile. "Should be very entertaining. I'm guessing it's a no-fatality contest."

"Unfortunately yes, they will live to plague us another day." Starscream replied, cherishing the slight twinge Mirage gave at hearing him use the term 'us'. "From what I understand, they're unusual in that they come from a branched spark."

Mirage froze in his steps and stared intently at Starscream. "Branched spark? Are their names Sideswipe and Sunstreaker?"

"Why yes, I believe those are their names." Starscream replied, suddenly realizing why Mirage was so interested and smiling inwardly at the realization. "Why? How do you know them?"

"I don't know those pieces of shit!" Mirage snarled. "There were suspects in Zeta's murder."

"I thought Prowl hadn't released any details yet." Starscream replied, playing dumb.

"I'm a Decimus, I have access to every facet of this investigation." Mirage snapped.

"Well let's go watch them get taken apart my friend." Starscream suggested, his compassion for Mirage seemingly sincere, and for once Mirage was at ease with Starscream wrapping his arm around his shoulder as they headed for the VIP box.

Mirage sat silently waiting for the fights to start, and a half hour later the opening bout was about to begin. The fighters were announced and introduced, the rules were explained (no weapons, no killing, strictly hand to hand to submission or unconsciousness), and they were ready for the fight to commence. The two fighters from Tarn were noticeably larger and appeared to bear vastly more in terms of armor than the two Autobot brothers, which brought a smile to Starscream's face, but brought no change to Mirage's stone visage. The lack of obvious armor did not mean a lack of armor; Mirage knew that better than most as he had undergone a process to leave him sleek and lean while having a significant degree of protection. And if he had undergone such a process, so possibly had these two commoners from Iacon. While they were likely penniless, they were obviously being represented by someone, and that someone probably had resources to armor their fighters.

The fight began with the Tarnian's charging in looking to quickly overwhelm the pair and beat them into an early submission, and it seemed to be heading that way as they got their large arms on the brightly colored pair. But it soon became apparent that the smaller robots were stronger than they appeared, especially the red one, and both were extremely adept at grappling. With the assumed strength advantage mitigated if not entirely removed, the smaller robots suddenly had an advantage being inside the defenses of the larger robots, and began hammering away at the mid-sections of their opponents. Almost in unison, the Tarnians pushed their way back away from the brothers to make use of their reach advantage by turning the battle into one of primarily striking, but while they did have a reach advantage, the two Iaconians were much faster, and made use of their superior reflexes by avoiding, blocking or parrying strikes to get back in and deliver more hammering before bouncing back away.

One Tarnian transformed into an earthmover mode and set upon his yellow opponent in an attempt to flatten the exceptionally handsome robot, but this Sunstreaker leapt to the side just in time, transformed and sped away in a sleek vehicular mode that was even prettier than his robotic one. The yellow street racer sped toward the other pair of combatants, and without even looking the red one leapt to his side, planted a foot on the rear of his brother's alt mode, and sprung from him into the air, landing with a thunderous downward punch into the top of the pursuing earthmover, his clearly enhanced arm, chest and shoulder presses helping him to drive his fist through the armor of the vehicle and causing it to cry out in pain.

Sunstreaker transformed while speeding toward Sideswipe's former opponent and at sixty miles per hour delivered a flying thrust kick into the upper chest of the surprised Tarnian. The Tarnian collapsed, and the moment he hit the ground Sunstreaker's yellow frame landed on him, a finger driving into each of the robot's optics and obliterating all the circuitry from the lens down to just outside the braincase below. Sunstreaker flipped off of the blinded warrior as the Tarnian cried out in pain and attempted to grab the Iaconian on top of him.

Sideswipe watched his opponent painfully transform, and once fully robotic, the red Iaconian set upon him, and with a series of thrust kicks, arm twists, and punches, the second Tarnian was dismantled and unable to continue. The red robot looked to his brother, and then both looked to the referee droid who scanned their opposition. After an evaluation of the injuries the droid determined the match to be over and awarded the victory to the brothers, who just shrugged and marched out of the pit. "Don't worry," Starscream yelled out to Mirage over the cheers of the crowd, "they will get what they deserve soon enough." Mirage merely glared at the departing Autobots.

Roller Pax

Like with most 'living legends', this Sentinel Prime didn't seem to live up to the expectations that Roller had prior to meeting him a half hour before. Arlon had returned from Cybertropolis and had barely gotten out of his transport before announcing that the Primal Transport would be arriving right behind him. He entered Tyger Pax only to return a few minutes later with several servants carrying supplies for a journey. The large quadruped then marched over to Roller and told him it was past time for him to see the Gates, and that Roller would be escorting him, the new Prime, and everyone else in Sentinel Prime's entourage to the polar mountains. It was at that moment that the Primal Transport cut through the clouds and the snow-filled sky and began descending on their platform. Roller had always assumed he'd see the Gates for the first time with Orion, but apparently that wasn't to be as Orion was at work in Polarus. Roller chuckled as he remembered pondering whether it could truly be considered work if Orion wasn't getting paid for it.

Sentinel Prime had exited the craft, delivered a smiling greeting to all present and had assured them all that he would be returning to Tyger Pax to meet everyone before continuing on to look over Polarus. Roller could see the nervousness of both Arlon and Sentinel's security chief Prowl as the Prime made this announcement, but Sentinel Prime was utterly fearless of exposing himself in such a way. The one thing this new Prime certainly didn't lack was a supreme confidence. Roller had been taught that confidence was a necessary trait for any individual, and more so for a leader, but to always be careful not to let it extend into arrogance. From what the young Pax could tell, the new Prime had passed that point and kept on going. But despite the arrogance, he seemed likable enough, and Roller was more than happy to meet him. The Prime was certainly a big guy, almost twice Roller's height and looked to be a good four feet taller than what Orion was. Of course, when dealing with House Honorum's pride and joy, there was a good chance that he had been partially or even completely rebuilt to be that size. He certainly appeared to have undergone every conceivable armor and press enhancement, which was probably helping to fuel his apparent fearlessness.

They had loaded back into the Primal Transport, now with Arlon and Roller, and set forth toward the Tartarun Gates. Roller had been told that the Wardens had forbidden ships from landing in the clearing before the main entrance, but as this was the Prime, an exception had been made. So Roller had spent a good portion of the trip discreetly studying Sentinel Prime, listening to his words, watching his movements, and he was…impressed, but not as impressed as he had expected to be. "Pardon me, Lord Pax." Roller looked up to see Prowl approaching him and taking the open seat next to him. "I hope I'm not bothering you, but if it's alright, I'd like to ask you a question or two."

Roller nodded, a little surprised, but responded. "Of course, and please, it's just Roller. Arlon is Lord Pax, not me."

"If that's what you wish, Roller." Prowl replied. "I understand you were given life in the last Vectoral pulse."

"Uh, yes, yes I was." Roller answered.

"And I've heard that you were the only protoform to be born into House Pax for this pulse, but that you are being raised with a common-born protoform." Prowl pressed, less than gracefully.

Roller nodded. "Yes, Orion."

"Hmm, I'm intrigued by this situation." Prowl replied. "You don't frequently hear about common protoforms being brought into and raised by noble or royal houses."

"I suppose not." Roller was getting more and more uncomfortable discussing his best friend. "Torenia found him abandoned and brought him to Tyger Pax."

"And where did she find him?" Prowl pressed eagerly.

"Roller Pax." Both robots looked up to see Arlon looking over them. "Sentinel Prime has been gracious enough to let you go into the cockpit and watch the pilot operate this fine craft. It's a tremendous opportunity for you."

Roller nodded and looked to Prowl. "It was a pleasure to speak with you, Commander Prowl."

Prowl nodded to the youth as he rose and walked across the craft toward the cockpit. He then looked up at Arlon Pax. "Hello my lord."

Roller caught Arlon nodding to Prowl out of the corner of his eye. "Commander." Arlon then turned and walked back toward Sentinel Prime, who was cheerfully talking to several other members of his personal guard.

Roller entered the cockpit and watched as the pilot directed the craft through the clouds and snow, asking the occasional question and getting a rudimentary understanding of the controls. About a half hour later they were heading down between the mountain peaks toward a small clearing in front of a vast mountain with an immense metal door. In front of the mountain were a few hundred soldiers lined up to greet them, the Wardens of the Tartarun Gates.

The craft set down, and within a few minutes they were all outside the craft lined up before the Wardens. A slightly larger than average light blue robot marched forward and bowed before Sentinel Prime and Arlon Pax. "My Prime, my lord, welcome to the Tartarun Gates, the Wardens are at your service."

"Rise Lord Commander Kup." The new Prime said with a smile before addressing all of the Wardens. "I thank all of you for this greeting, and want you to know that your efforts and devotion are respected and acknowledged. There are many on our world that view what you do as an archaic and unnecessary tradition based on legends and folklore that cannot possibly be true, but please know that there are those of us who know otherwise. Honorus, Paxus, Magnus, Maximus, Ambus, Solus, Trionic, Modus, Decimus, Machtus, Fluctus, Onyx and Nexus; the Knights of Cybertron were not only founders of the great houses, they were heroes that saved our world and drove the sparkeaters and other evils down into that pit that you all now so vigilantly guard. You serve and honor their memory, and whether the masses know it or not, you protect us all. Please know that you have my most sincere gratitude, and that I hold your order in the highest of esteem." The Wardens applauded him for several moments, and when the applause finally died down, Prime smiled. "I would like my visit to be as minimally disruptive for you as possible. Please return to your tasks."

"Of course Prime." Kup replied before turning and nodding to an important looking robot behind him, who in turn used a hand gesture to disperse the Wardens who returned inside the vase cavern at the base of the mountain. "Please, this way." The group entered the cave, Roller in awe of the sheer scale of it all, a small city carved into the mountain housing the army gathered to protect them all from what was kept far beneath, or so the legend went. He had heard what Sentinel had said, but he had gotten the impression that Sentinel Prime would say whatever needed saying to ensure the devotion of those around him. As they marched through the expanse Kup explained both the history as well as the practical functions of each portion of the vast fortress, walking them all down deeper and deeper, until they reached an enormous metal door. "From this point forward only the Prime, Lord Pax and myself are permitted to continue. The rest of you may return to any other section of the fortress that we've been in and enjoy whatever hospitality that you can find."

Roller chatted with a few members of Prime's entourage, but at seeing Prowl walking across the room in the distance decided to make himself scarce. Arlon was no longer there to protect him, and he was beyond unnerved by the Security Director's interest in Orion. He knew that this interest stemmed from Orion's submission of his theories on the 'Spark Collector' mass murder case; A-Three had chewed Orion out for that the day before, stressing the importance that he avoid attention at all costs. Roller had thought A-Three was being excessive, but his short but intense conversation with Prowl had shown him otherwise. The blue robot transformed and quietly sped away down a hallway and into a non-descript side cavern, where he transformed, sat in the corner and silently accessed his stored lessons in memory and boned up in his class work.

The time passed quickly at first, but after a few hours Roller started getting bored and considered leaving his sanctuary. The sound of a large vehicle approaching from the hallway silenced him, and he shrunk even deeper into the shadows of the dimly lit room. The sound of the vehicle stopping followed by a transformation nearly caused him to panic. He knew it wasn't Prowl, whoever was outside the room was far too big to be Prowl. A moment later he watched the yellow-orange frame of Sentinel Prime enter, turn to look out into the hallway to make sure he wasn't followed, and then raise his wrist to open a communications channel. "Nightbeat, come in."

After several seconds a voice replied. "I'm here sir…I mean your grace."

"How are things progressing with your search?" Prime asked curtly. "I need results soon."

"They are progressing well sir." The voice came back. "I've compiled several potential scenarios as to what could have happened to the Manifest. I might even be able to begin my galactic search by year's end."

"You'll need to be out there physically looking by month's end." Sentinel Prime grumbled.

"Month's end? Sir, your grace, I'm nowhere near that point in the investigation." Nightbeat's apologetic voice came back.

"Then pick up the pace, Detective!" Prime angrily growled into his wrist. "I need it found, and I need it found now. When you head out, be sure to bring whatever you'll need to cut open a corpse. We can figure out how to get the ship and crew back after you return, but I need you to return with the Matrix."

"Sir, why the urgency to recover the Matrix?" Nightbeat asked, his curiosity overwhelming his sense to not further agitate the angered and impatient Prime.

"Just get the damn bauble!" Prime snapped. "Apparently I can't be the 'Prime Who Was Promised' without it."

"What?"

"Never mind!" Prime growled. "Just prove you're worth a damn and finish your assignment!" Sentinel switched off the channel and marched out of the room. Roller listened to the sound of him transforming and speeding away, and waited a few more minutes before crawling out of the corner and tentatively walking toward the doorway, peering down the hall to make sure nobody was there.

"Roller Pax!" Arlon's agitated voice burst through the speaker on his wrist, startling Roller to the point where he jumped.

Roller clumsily raised his wrist to his mouth. "Yes sir?"

"Where are you? We're ready to go!" Arlon snapped.

"Of course sir, I will be with you in a moment." Roller replied before transforming and speeding toward the rest of the group.

Soundwave

Rabattus Decimus was a tedious, arrogant boar, but he was reliable and competent if nothing else. He had yammered the entire way from Harmonex to Kaon about how this gladiatorial circuit was just the start of an underground empire that would give the southern emirates a distinct edge in terms of wealth, resources and influence over those of the north. Soundwave had been sorely tempted to remind Rabattus that Ankmor was a northern emirate, but chose to keep it to himself. Frankly, he was just grateful for the lift. Lightwave was pretty tight with controlling everything going into and out of Harmonex, and to a lesser degree, the entire emirate of Praxus, and he would never approve of Soundwave taking a transport shuttle to Kaon, or anywhere else in the emirate of Polyhex. And were he to find out that Soundwave was connected with this criminal fight club and the gambling ring spawned from it, there would be no limit to his rage. Fortunately Shockwave was very effective at keeping Lightwave focus on him, even if not deliberately.

"I've received rumblings that Militus has a gladiator with the potential to face down Ogrus's juggernaut." Rabattus commented with a smirk. "I personally don't believe there's anyone capable to defeating Grimlock, but if this warrior can go longer than any previous opponent, then we might stand to make a small fortune through some side-betting."

Soundwave nodded. "I will need to see this fighter in action before putting any money on him, especially against the Simfurian."

"Of course, but provided he's as capable as claimed, we should keep what we learn of him to ourselves." Rabattus suggested. "Word of his capabilities getting out would water down our potential windfall."

"Affirmative." Soundwave said as they looked out to seen the approaching landing pad outside Castle Macht, where a rotund robot was waiting to greet them. "It appears that Militus has sent an underling to greet us."

"Always the dismissive elitist." Rabattus chirped, his comment lacking the level of annoyance that Soundwave had expected given how far they had traveled to meet the Emir of Polyhex. "He's too important to meet with us himself, or to even have a member of his House greet us, instead sending…whoever this is. It appears it's true what they say, House Macht considers itself the Honorums of the southern hemisphere; and as a northerner with close ties to House Honorum I can tell you that is pretty damn arrogant."

The craft touched down and a moment later the small red pilot walked into their cabin and nodded respectfully to them as he prepared the door. "We have arrived my lords."

"Thank you Powerglide." Rabattus said to the robot waiting by the door for them. "Please wait here for our return, and remember, no one is to know of this trip."

"Of course my lord." Powerglide replied, bowing his head.

The two nobles walked down the ramp and were approached by the stout robot waiting for them. "Greetings my lords, I am lord Straxus of Fort Scyk and governor of the northeastern quadrant of Stanix. I am here to represent lord Macht, who regrets that he is attending to matters that will delay his meeting you. But I am happy to guide you and answer any questions you may have until he arrives."

"Adequate." Soundwave replied as he turned away from Straxus and marched toward the large decrepit coliseum in the distance.

Rabattus smiled at Straxus and nodded toward Soundwave for them to follow. "I was not aware that Fort Scyk was habitable, nor that Stanix was large enough to section off into quadrants, Lord Straxus."

Straxus endured the slight quietly, and his nearly featureless face likely gave no indication of his anger, Soundwave assumed as he listened to the conversation going on behind him. "Aye, the fort needs a great deal of work, and the section of land is not large, but the gift of it from Lord Macht is still far beyond gracious. I was common born, but through his grace and his faith in me, I am now a noble."

"Ah, I see." Rabattus replied. "Though from what I've heard, it was less about his grace than his rage at House Scykus. Three light tribute payments and they were wiped from the face of Cybertron."

"Lord Macht had nothing to do with the disappearance of House Scykus." Straxus snapped. "Nobody knows what happened to them, only that they vanished without a trace."

"Hmmm, I received word that there were traces of them all over the fort." Rabattus chuckled.

"Whatever befell them was not the work of my Emir, I assure you." The low lord answered impatiently. "But whatever happened to them, their lands and resources were left abandoned, and my lord required capable attendants to govern the quadrants he sectioned Stanix up into. He felt I was one such attendant."

"The northeastern quadrant was the most energon rich section." Soundwave spat out, still marching straight ahead, though his companions were now catching up to him. "I assume you were involved in House Macht's mining operation in some capacity."

"Well, yes, but that has nothing to do with my selection." Straxus responded defensively.

"Of course it didn't." Rabattus chuckled as they reached the coliseum and entered through the large entrance. "Now tell us of what Lord Macht has been doing with our investments down here. I see he's devoted some of it to patching up this old gymnasium."

"Lord Macht has not only renovated this arena into a state of the art training facility, but he has also added barracks for the fighters from your emirates as well as expanded the infirmary to include a surgical center equipped to provide the fighters with the latest upgrades to both armor and press." Straxus answered as they entered the center of the arena and looked upon hundreds of gladiators and trainers all around them sparring and training in other ways. "The armor enhancements for most are sufficient so that they can go all out in unarmed combat without inflicting or sustaining much more than dents." A cry from the far end of the arena followed by the thud of metal landing heavily on metal drew their attention and seemed to contradict what Straxus had just said. "Of course, there are exceptions."

The three traversed the distance to the other side where the sound had come from; where other similar sounds were coming from now. Years before Soundwave had allowed his kinsman Shockwave to examine his spark thoroughly and perform some experimentation on it as well as his frame and brain module regarding unique spark qualities he had found in the examination. Those experiments had led to extreme pain and a long recovery, but ultimately to some abilities; abilities allowing Soundwave to hear virtually imperceptible levels of sound and even some limited mind-reading, traits that Soundwave was using now. 'He's at it again', 'Tarnian shit', 'Don't care what Terminus, Straxus or Militus claim, he's had every enhancement in Rossum's lab', and other comments that intrigued Soundwave all the more about the combatant causing all the painful noises.

A group of eight warriors and three trainers finally came into view, where three of the warriors were on the ground, nursing injuries and/or gingerly climbing back to their feet, another three were cautiously circling around the final warrior, a hulking twenty-four foot tall tarnished silver combatant who casually regarded the remaining three opponents as they studied him for any opening. "Please wait here." Straxus instructed the two visitors and marched directly toward a worn robot that was looking over the sparring session, and given the air of pride he seemed to possess, he was likely the main handler for the lone brutalizer of the group. "Why is he out here?" Straxus hissed at the robot in a tone he thought was low enough for the visitors to hear. "The Emir wanted no outsider to see him yet."

The older robot looked toward their guests and a look of genuine concern came over his face. "I was not told of any visit." He grumbled.

"Yes you were, I told you!" Straxus insisted, though Soundwave could clearly sense that the statement was a lie.

"Really?" The older robot knowingly smirked. "When was that?"

"He didn't tell you, Terminus." The silver warrior announced as he walked away from the other fighters toward their guests, sending a glance toward Straxus that seemed an invitation for him to disagree. Straxus met the gaze but remained silent. The gladiator continued toward the guests and stopped before them. "You two possess the bearing of nobles; perhaps royals." The warrior regarded both Soundwave and Rabattus. "I am Megatron of Tarn, subject of Lord Militus Macht and I am at your disposal provided your requests do not counter the interests of my Emir." The words and the tone were respectful, but the bow traditionally delivered by a commoner addressing nobility was notably absent.

"Megatron of Tarn," Rabattus grinned at the gladiator, "I believe you are the mysterious warrior that Lord Macht has been working so hard to keep under wraps."

Megatron smiled knowingly. "I am not privy to Lord Macht's plans or secrets, I am merely here to fight in service of his house."

"Of course you are." Rabattus replied with a smile. "You recognized that we weren't commoners. Can you guess who we are?" Megatron looked them both over with a subdued smile.

"Ahem." The old trainer, Terminus, cleared his throat, prompting Megatron to turn and look at him. Terminus delivered an indecipherable look to the younger powerhouse, to which looked down at the ground, ponder something for a moment, and raise his optics back up to Terminus. Soundwave couldn't see Megatron's face, but whatever the silent message he gave Terminus, it left the old trainer looking more worried than before.

Megatron turned back toward the royals and looked intently at Rabattus. "It's highly stylized, but you bear an emblem derived from that of House Decimus. With your dark colors, your helmet and other bestial-themed adornments, I would say…no, I know that you are Rabattus, third in line of House Decimus."

"Very good." Rabattus replied, clearly re-evaluating this gladiator. "And my companion?"

Megatron looked into Soundwave's optics for a moment, an act that gave the royal from the emirate of Praxus a chill that ran the length of his frame. The warrior then looked Soundwave's frame up and down for several moments before returning his gaze up at the predominantly blue robot's optics. "You are of House Torrent." Megatron replied. "You are not as overt about displaying your royalty as Rabattus, but the design patterns on much of your non-original frame are Fluctusian."

"You are familiar with Fluctusian art styles?" Rabattus asked, genuinely surprised for once.

Megatron nodded. "I am."

"How is that possible?" Soundwave asked. "You are of common birth."

Megatron regarded him with a look that wasn't threatening or angry, but one that made it clear that he should never be underestimated again. "There are ways for the low-born to educate themselves. Even the lowly streets of Tarn sometimes lead to data depositories. The colleagues of my youth were far more interested in merchandise that could be fenced or mind-altering chemicals, but I chose instead to expand my mind, to see what knowledge could be gained. Though the offerings were limited, I immediately recognized the benefit of studying these data pads. It is there that I became familiar with the legends of The Knights of Cybertron, and of Lord Fluctus's love of the natural and cybernetic aspects of this planet that he incorporated into his artwork. He founded House Torrent, and so much of everything they build incorporates this artwork style in some way, including the additions to their frame."

Straxus walked over to the group. "Lord Macht has also given the gladiators online access to the Castle Macht library, which goes unused by all of these grunts but this one." The low lord glared at Megatron. "I don't know whether it's seeing my ascension to low nobility or the suffix 'tron' in his name, but this one has always had a problem of accepting his station. I apologize for his presumption."

"Nonsense." Rabattus contested. "I asked him questions, he has merely answered them. Though the question of my colleague's identity still remains unanswered."

Megatron looked back at Soundwave. "I mean no disrespect to your house, but from what I've read, the members of House Torrent they are focused primarily on their house's standing and their own personal appearance, with two notable exceptions. Your frame is handsome and well maintained, but there is much room for further adornment, and a faceplate seems out of place for a member of House Torrent. I have read the word 'Cyclops' applied to Shockwave, so I would have to guess you to be Soundwave."

"Excellent!" Rabattus announced as Soundwave nodded at the warrior.

Megatron smiled and looked back to Terminus, who looked more concerned than ever. Soundwave couldn't take it anymore, and tried to pry into the mind of this Megatron. 'I know what Terminus fears, but I will no longer kneel and play dumb for lesser…what, what's in my head?' Soundwave immediately withdrew his prying mind, but Megatron turned his head and glared at him knowingly, the look on his expressive face appearing to be weighing whether to obliterate Soundwave or not. Megatron's facial features slowly shifted to a knowing grin, before he turned away.

"My friend Megatron," Rabattus said through a widening grin, "you've impressed us with your intellect, we were wondering if you could impress us with a display of your physical prowess."

Megatron smiled back and nodded. "Of course my lord." He turned back toward the six gladiators he had been fighting earlier. "Each of you go get a friend and come back."

Prowl

The meeting with the legendary Omega Supreme had clearly not gone well, Prowl thought as he looked upon Sentinel Prime and the scowl etched over his face. Had not Zeta Prime assured him of the Guardian robot's existence, Prowl would have assumed that the giant was as much a myth as the monsters trapped within the bowels of the planet that he was supposedly protecting them all from. Of course, Sentinel had clearly met the giant, and had come back agitated and impatient. Prowl chuckled as he figured the ancient robot probably chastised the new Prime for not seeking him out prior to the inauguration the way that Zeta Decimus had. It wasn't technically law, but in the absence of the Matrix it had been assumed that the individual chosen to be Prime by the Senate also needed to seek out the approval of Omega Supreme, the last living creature to have fought alongside the Knights of Cybertron fifteen millions years before; provided they ever really existed. Sentinel Prime, of course, had gone ahead with the inauguration prior to getting the Guardian's blessing.

Now as they marched through downtown Polarus, Sentinel Prime was required to set aside his scowl and display a forced smile at the people who were out to see and wave to their new leader. Prowl on the other hand was required to keep his senses on full alert because of the new Prime's bravado. Sentinel's announcement of an impromptu stroll through the emirate's capital city without any sort of security preparations was an invitation to anyone who wanted to do anything from harass to flat out kill the new Prime, and given what had happened to Zeta just a few weeks before and that whoever had done it was still at large, the threat was beyond real, and it was Prowl's responsibility to ensure that it didn't happen. Sentinel was going to make Prowl's life harder as Prime than he had as Zeta's Chief of Security.

But if Prime had to pull this shit anywhere, better it be in Polarus than any other large city. True to their name, the Pax's kept the peace better than any other ruling house on the planet, and they did so with the most just and permissive rules for their people. Perhaps they achieved such results because unlike every other ruling house, they were bound by the rules as much as any common citizen, and that they spread their wealth throughout the emirate, providing education and opportunities for advancement to every single denizen of the Torus Heights, much to the consternation of nobles and royals around the planet. Were the climate not so unpleasant and their culture not so isolationist and quirky, commoners from all over Cybertron would likely be pouring over their borders. Even with those things, Polarus seemed to be a city made up primarily of immigrants. A broad mixture of dialects rivaling the melting pots of Iacon, Cybertropolis or other larger and wealthier metropolises, but in a less bustling and far more hospitable, welcoming environment.

But even in this welcoming environment Prowl knew he needed to scout for potential hostilities. He scanned the street intently, and quickly saw cause for concern. A large robot, one almost as large and broad as Sentinel Prime himself stepped out away from the crowd and into the street a couple hundred feet ahead. Prowl immediately recognized the robot, and he and several other guards stepped in front of the Prime, to which the robot simply raised his hands, palms toward them submissively. "Stand down and prepare to be taken into custody!" Prowl announced to the robot, his rifle loosely held and pointed at the large red, orange and gray robot.

"I'm not here to surrender Prowl, merely to talk to the new Prime peacefully and then leave." The robot announced. "He claims to serve the people, all the people, not just the nobility. Let him prove it now and listen to what I have to say. I give my word that him doing so would…"

"You will never speak with the Prime, filth!" Prowl winced as he heard Barricade bellow out next to him. He knew the Autobots would be recording everything that was going on here, and if they weren't broadcasting it live, they would be sending out the recording soon.

"Enough." Prowl admonished his comrade. "Blaster, you are wanted on several outstanding warrants. I can list them off for you now, but in case you would prefer them not being made public to all here and whoever you may be broadcasting these events to," the Head of Security sent looks to all his subordinates as well as one to Prime to make sure they all recognized that their actions were being witnessed, "I am more than willing to use discretion and wait until we're in private before listing them off."

"Graffiti and public mischief is all you have against me." Blaster announced. "Any other charges you may levy against me consist of nothing but trumped up lies. And the graffiti and mischief only occur because there are no legitimate venues for the grievances of the long suffering common people to be aired. Now that he has claimed the same title, legacy and responsibilities as Primon, Prima, Prime Nova and Guardian Prime, I am hoping that Sentinel Prime has a greater empathy for the lowborn classes than Sentinel Honorum displayed, and am giving him this opportunity to prove it."

Prowl felt Sentinel Prime pushing his way to the front and knew he had to do something to calm his leader down. "Prime, wait…" Prowl whispered, trying to stop Sentinel's advance, but the hulking yellow/orange leader ignored him as he pushed his way to the front.

"The commoners have their needs met, they are granted peace and security, and their rights are protected by law and upheld by me, and I take that responsibility very seriously!" Sentinel Prime snapped. "You have a say in who represents you in the Senate,"

"We can vote on one plebian representative, who can represent up to five thousand commoners and has a tenth the vote of a single low noble and a fiftieth of a high noble, all of which can be put aside by the whim of the Emir." Blaster shot out.

"How dare you interrupt me, you Lower Iaconian worm!" Prime roared, causing Prowl to groan quietly. Blaster's dialect made it clear he had been raised in the sub-surface region of Iacon, but the Prime was supposed to be above using someone's origins against them. "I am the Prime! I will not be drawn into a whining session by some common outlaw thug! You chose vandalism and civil disobedience; you will now pay for your crimes!" Prime turned back to Prowl and the others. "Take him!"

"I told you, I'm not here to surrender." Blaster replied, slats in his legs opening to reveal some odd round black devices.

"Get the Prime back!" Prowl ordered as he charged in front of his leader, followed by six other guards.

Just as Prowl and his comrades formed a protective wall, a torrent of sonic waves blasted he and the two officers on either side of him off their feet. The blasts of sounds scrambled some of his inner circuitry, and that damage combined with impacting the metal ground forced disoriented him a few moments before he could register what was happening. He looked up and saw Prime and those closest to him taking fire, causing him to leap to his feet. But he immediately noticed that there was something odd about the assault. The rounds striking them and the area around them weren't cutting, burning or exploding; they didn't seem to be metal, explosive or energy rounds, they were globs of some darkly colored adhesive. "Tar bombs!" Prowl muttered, his attempt to call out the weapon that was being used against them came out as barely more than a whisper. He struggled to run forward and aid his leader, but a large ball of the sticky black ooze slammed into his leg and the ground around it, pinning it there. It would be minutes before he could work his way out of the adhesive, and in all likelihood he'd be hit by a few more balls by that point. But as debilitating as these balls could be, they were not meant to kill or even injure, which Prowl needed to make Prime aware of before he retaliated with the vast arsenal he kept housed within certain sections of his frame. Prowl realized the likely aim was to prompt a response utilizing excessive and unjustified force from the Prime and his entourage, a retaliation that he was already certain was being recorded and likely broadcast live or would be within seconds of the events unfolding. He had to protect Sentinel Prime, and not just from the Autobots, but from his own temper and those guards eager to cut commoners possessing the gall to buck the system to pieces.

His fears were realized as Prowl watched his comrades open fire at Blaster and into the buildings where the tar bombs seemed to be originating from. Sentinel drew a rifle the size of his leg that had been strapped to his back and opened fire as well, forcing Blaster to sprint toward an alley and dive for cover. "You have my attention now, Blaster!" Prime roared as he continued firing while marching toward the opening of the alley as Prowl started to tear out of the tar. "Come out and let's discuss your rights!"

A large ball of tar flew out from a rooftop and slammed him in his head, sending him stumbling over and nearly falling. At that moment Blaster flipped out from the alley and blasted sonic wave's from the weapons in his legs that knocked Prime back and to the ground. "We didn't want this Prime, it was only supposed to be talking! You came at us, we're just defending ourselves!"

"He's assaulting the Prime!" Prowl heard Flatfoot cry out as he charged weapon firing at the large red and orange Autobot. "Die lowborn shit!" Blaster took a few rounds to his torso before falling back into the alley. Flatfoot continued marching forward as Prowl got to Prime, noting that he was uninjured, but incensed. Their attention was shifted up toward the roof where the tar bomb that hit Prime had originated from, where a cry and a pair of bodies were coming over it and falling to the ground. A large red and blue robot was gripping a mid-sized predominantly white robot, one Prowl recognized as the suspected Autobot Jazz, and falling down to the sidewalk below, but the red robot planted his foot on a light pole and used it to slow their descent and spring out to land in the middle of the street. He slammed Jazz down, ripped his tar-canon out of his hands and slammed his blue fist into the Autobot's face, knocking him out cold with a large dent in his cheek.

The newcomer looked up, Prowl, who was typically so good at knowing all the potential players, had no idea of who he was, but he had continued from the fall as if it were just a normal step and handled the large canon with the ease that Prowl would handle a pistol. "Get the Prime inside Snowfall Café! Constables, determine who are civilians and direct them off of the street! House Pax, with me!" The robot called out with an authority in his voice that as far as Prowl knew he did not possess, but despite this, all local constables and every member of the House Pax security detail immediately did as he instructed. The Pax guards swarmed behind him, not even bothering to look to any of the Primal Guard for any sort of instruction or input, instead following this unknown individual without question. "There are snipers on the roofs of Malnax's Washhouse, Bonarus's Shell Design, and in the fourth floor window of the Savings and Loan! All appear to be armed with these tar canons, I have yet to see anything remotely lethal, so they are not to be taken down with extreme prejudice unless you see a more serious weapon! I repeat, lethal force or any undue brutality is NOT to be employed unless the situation changes from what we've seen thus far! Impactor, take your squad and clear Malnax's! Roadbuster, take your squad and clear Bonarus's! Inferno, the Savings and Loan!" The newcomer marched toward the alley. "I've got their leader!"

"You've got shit, elitist!" Several Autobots poured out of the buildings that the red and blue robot had identified as their hiding spots and opened fire on the advancing Pax guards. The one who yelled out, who Prowl knew as the suspected Autobot Trailbreaker, began firing his tar canon at them as he and his comrades also made their way to Blaster's position, presumably to rescue him.

"We have no issue with House Pax!" Prowl was a little surprised to see the scientist known as Perceptor operating with the Autobots, but his surprise had to be dismissed for the moment as he watched his comrades hustling the Prime into the café, against his will from the sounds of it.

"And I have no issue with the Autobot philosophies and goals, but you bring violence to the streets of Polarus!" The red robot replied. "You endanger civilians, and confront the Prime with the clear goal of goading him into a violent confrontation!" Trailbreaker fired a shot directly at this robot, who raised his canon to block the shot. The glob of tar wrapped around the cannon and a small part of the robot's forearm, but the robot merely whipped the canon at Trailbreaker, the tar tearing from his arm with ease and the goop-covered canon slamming the black Autobot in the chest and sending him to the ground.

Perceptor fired another shot at this robot, who blocked it with his left hand. The glob covered nearly his entire forearm, but once again the robot flung his arm with enough force to send the dark ball of goop flying back toward Perceptor, hitting him in the face and sending his tar-covered frame crashing to the ground. Eight more Autobots charged ahead to intercept this robot and his companions. The Pax detail got five of them and used their training and superior numbers to take them down with ease, but three made it to the red robot and attacked him hand to hand. Prowl watched the battle unfold, and recognized the moves to be nothing more than basic police hand to hand combat moves, but the speed and power at the disposal of this robot was such that even against the most skilled gladiators, these basic moves would have been more than enough. In mere seconds the three Autobots were completely incapacitated and the robot marched into the alley and carried out Blaster, using a level of delicacy that seemed at odds given that he was taking the robot into custody. The red robot then looked at Blaster as he laid him down. "I apologize, but this is necessary." With that the robot punched through each of the sonic weapons on Blaster's legs, but seemed to keep the pain and damage to walking function to a minimum.

Prowl approached the two robots quickly, but felt two forms brush past him. He watched as Barricade and Flatfoot, with rifles drawn, ran toward the injured and subdued Blaster, with what Prowl knew to be intent to kill. The newcomer saw them approaching as well, and positioned himself between them and the prisoner. "Halt! The suspect has been subdued and is unarmed!"

"Move Frosty, this is for planetary security!" Barricade snarled.

"No!" The other robot stood his ground against the two well-armed Primal Guards. "He will be arrested and tried in a court, you will do nothing more to him!"

"Oh, and who's going to stop us?" Flatfoot asked angrily. "You?"

"Yes I am." The robot replied, causing both guards to raise their weapons at him. Flatfoot fired, but the robot amazingly twisted out of the way to avoid it. Barricade's shot came a moment later and struck the robot in the abdomen, but the round elicited nothing more than a grunt. The robot then lurched forward and hammered Barricade to the ground with a right cross, then twisted and backhanded Flatfoot. Barricade was out, Flatfoot flew back and hit the wall of a building behind him, but remained conscious; at least until the red robot followed after him and hammered him with another right cross. The two guards were laid out unconscious on the ground as Prowl approached. The robot twisted and glared at him. "Back off! No further harm is to come to the prisoner!"

"You back off!" Prowl snapped. "I appreciate your assistance, but I'm in charge here!"

"I'm still a bit green, but I'm pretty sure you're in line behind Sentinel Prime and Arlon Pax." The robot shot back. "I can't speak for the Prime, but there's no way Lord Pax would allow someone to be murdered in cold fluid, even by the Primal Guard. So you back off!"

"Enough!" The roar forced the two to turn toward the advancing Arlon Pax, with Roler Pax next to him. "The constable is correct, there will be no killing in my streets."

"Constable?" Prowl questioned. "I've familiarized myself with the dossiers of all law enforcement in the Torus Heights, and I don't recognize this individual."

Arlon paused, the slightest hint of nervousness coming over his bestial face. "You OK Orion?" Roller asked the robot, unaware of Arlon's desire to keep as much from Prowl as possible. Prowl's gaze spun back toward the youth in question, staring at both his face and then the scorches and dents on his abdomen that should have been vastly more damaged. Frankly, while the rifle Barricade used wasn't the most powerful of weapons, at that range the round should not only have penetrated this Orion's dermal plating, but cut through much of his inner workings. As far as Prowl could tell, the youth did not have any sort of armor enhancements, yet all that was left of the shot was a small dent and scorching.

"I'm quite fine Lord Pax, thank you for your concern." Orion replied, bowing his head.

"Lord P…"a confused Roller started to ask, but then looked at Prowl and nodded, "ah, right." He looked back at Orion, a grin he was trying to subdue forming on his face. "Hopefully somebody recorded that, you really need to see what you did."

"Don't worry my lord," Blaster replied through his pain, "all that transpired here today was recorded and is being viewed by everyone on Cybertron as we speak." The large red robot turned and looked down the street to see a yellow feline form sprinting away. "Your friend will be a hero, and the Prime will be revealed to be the brutal elitist he truly is."

Prowl ground his teeth as he drew his pistol and leveled it at the yellow form darting away, while at the same time opening a communications channel. "Eject, please tell me you followed my orders and placed a transmission jam around us".

A voice came back through his wrist. "I've been expecting your call sir. An immensely strong signal has been trying to push past the barriers we have in place. It's holding for now, but it seems that the origin of the broadcast is putting distance between it and your party. I won't be able to keep it contained for much longer."

"You won't have to." Prowl replied, firing a shot. The round caught the feline in the rear right haunch, causing it to tumble to the ground. Prowl then turned to several Primal Guards who were running forward, followed closely by Sentinel Prime. "Go apprehend that feralitron." He then looked to Prime. "I've got Blaster."

Blaster looked up at the Prime. "It's unfortunate for you that I was captured in the presence of Arlon Pax. Had we been anywhere else you'd have been able to kill me."

Sentinel Prime stared back at him with a grin. "Had we been anywhere else I doubt you'd have pulled this ill-conceived joke of an attack."

"It was never meant to be an attack, merely a forced meeting that we knew would lead to you exposing yourself as the unfit leader you truly are." Blaster spat, looking up at Orion. "And we'd have been successful had we not overlooked this one Polarus cop."

"He's not a cop." Prowl said as he started placing shackles on Blaster. "Not yet, anyway. Just a kid volunteering for the Constabulary." He looked up at Sentinel. "Prime, this is the individual that solved the Spark Collector case."

Sentinel Prime looked down at the youth and smiled broadly. "A super-athlete and a genius as well."

Orion bowed his head. "Neither sir, just a hard worker trying to help."

"He also beat the hell out of Barricade and Flatfoot, your grace." Another Primal Guard stated to Prime.

"I suggest you let that issue drop and be forgotten." Arlon growled threateningly. "The lad most definitely was in the right and I will testify to the highest power of that fact."

"It is forgotten." Prime said, studying the youth. "I am curious as to his post-protoformal test performance."

Arlon shifted uneasily. "I will see if we can find them."


	4. Chapter 4

Torenia Pax

"Bastards." The whisper was heard by at least four of those around her, but only Roller acknowledged the comment, looking into her optics with his own despondent ones, shuffling toward her and reaching out to grip and gently squeeze her hand. The two royals smiled sadly at one another before turning back to the descending House Honorum shuttle.

"It was a Primal request." Arlon Pax, standing on the other side of Torenia, replied defensively. "One does not refuse a Primal request, at least not without inviting scrutiny, which is something we all agree we would like to avoid."

"I still have no idea of what the issue is." Roller whispered, looking around at the other seven members of House Pax standing away from them to make sure they couldn't hear what he was saying to Torenia and Arlon. They seemed not to notice or care about the discussion going on with the three, nor did the dozens of other denizens of Tyger Pax, nearly the entire Constabulary of Polarus, and several citizens of the city, all who were now standing near the Tyger Pax shuttle port. "So what if he wasn't born in Burthov? Who cares? What could they possibly find out about him if they were to dig? It's not like he was born in Iacon; A-Three would have been able to pinpoint the hotspot of origin in a second if he were."

"Drop it child." Torenia whispered. "I found him outside of Burthov, do not ever suggest otherwise."

"Torenia, we must know the truth." Arlon whispered. "For his sake, we must know what we are dealing with so that we can know how best to protect him."

"They can't make any sort of claim to him if he wasn't born in Nova Cronum, and we know that he wasn't." Roller refused to let the line of questioning drop. "I know for a fact that A-Three ruled out every single hotspot in the emirate…as well as ours…and I think the hotspots of pretty much all other emirates as well." Roller looked up at Torenia. "So, yeah, big mystery, but he's safe from the Honorums."

"No, he's not." Torenia whispered before letting her head hang. "In time I will tell him, and only him. Until then, I will say no more on the subject."

A-Three

He watched the young robot peering out from the Spear of Paxus, the tallest tower at Tyger Pax, at the crowd that had gathered to see him off, and the shuttle that had been sent to take him away. "There are so many." The youth commented.

"Of course there are." A-Three replied, still amazed at the boy's surprising, and completely genuine humility. How could he not know that he'd touched their lives and would be greatly missed? "You are one of them."

"A Polariun?" Orion smiled without knowing it, warmed at being welcomed into a community he had grown to love.

"Yes," A-Three replied as he walked forward and took his place next to Orion, staring out at the landing platform, "and a Pax."

Orion was silent for several moments. "I love them, and I know they love me. I know that I am welcome here, and always will be, but I am not a Pax." The red and blue robot turned and peered intently at A-Three. "I ask you to please stop suggesting otherwise."

"As you wish." A-Three sadly replied.

Orion looked back toward the shuttle. "Everyone down there sees this as a simple good-bye, and that I'll be back in a few years; everyone except Arlon, Torenia and Roller. They're scared, you're scared, and it's making me scared. Why the fear? Why is the idea that I'll be in the stewardship of the Honorums so terrifying to you all? Even if I had come into existence in the heart of Iacon, why would they want me?"

"Because you're unique." A-Three replied as he too gazed out the large window.

"No, I'm rare." Orion replied. "I've seen my medical scans. I'm one in a thousand."

A-Three chuckled. "You're far rarer than that, even were we only talking about your green spark. Point one percenter is a terribly inaccurate term, coined by people looking for a term that was easy to say and remember for a phenomena that was in actuality far more unlikely than they realized. But there are other point one percenters, that is true. What makes you unique is the composition of your frame. You consist of metals that theoretically should be too dense, too…unaccommodating to life, yet here you are. I believe the power of your green spark is what forced these materials to alter themselves to accommodate your life, and it has made you..." A-Three turned and looked at Orion, "well, far more durable than you should be."

"That explains a lot." Orion replied.

"Though frankly, even if it were just your green spark that would be more than enough for the Honorums to want to latch onto you, so please, do what you can to avoid scrutiny." A-Three requested.

Orion stared quietly out the window thinking about what was just revealed to him for several moments. "My frame; do you know where on Cybertron the materials that could have gone into making it came from?" He asked.

A-Three peered deeply into the youth's optics and lied. "No. I have no idea." Lying had started to come easy for A-Three millions of years ago; he knew it would never come easy to Orion, so for now, ignorance was better.

Orion looked down sadly. "Alright. I guess only Torenia knows, and I promised her I'd never ask her again."

"In time I'm sure she'll tell you, but yes, until then, pretend to know nothing." A-Three gently tapped the youth on his shoulder, and indication that it was time to go.

"Not much pretending required."

*

Arlon Pax

They all kept their composure as Orion walked out from Tyger Pax and headed toward them, at least until Torenia's composure broke and she charged out to embrace her…child? Yes, Arlon had observed mammalian species with their offspring more times than he could count throughout his long life, and there was no other way to characterize what Orion was to Torenia. He was her child, and now she was watching him being taken away, and Arlon was unable to stop it from happening, and he realized that consciously or unconsciously, she would resent him for it. And he would resent himself for it as well.

The two hugged for over a minute before they released each other, Orion wrapping his powerful arm around her shoulder and walking her back toward Arlon and Roller, the youth smiling and saying pleasantries to those they passed; nobility and commoners alike had come to love and honor him. The pair finally made it to the members of House Pax, and Orion exchanged laughter and hugs with all of them. None of them knew of the potential danger of losing him to the Honorums. Even he and Roller truly didn't know, they only saw the fear in Torenia, and realized that there was something about Orion's origins that would allow the ruling house of Nova Cronum to make some sort of claim to him. What that was, they could only guess; A-Three had assured them that Orion's frame had not come from any known hotspot in Nova Cronum, but still, there was something that Torenia was afraid of, and that fear was specific to the Honorums.

Orion walked over, grinning widely at Roller. "Who's going to keep you out of trouble with me gone?"

Roller punched him in the shoulder. "Nobody, which means you'll need to come back often to bail me out. Of course, if that plan actually ends up working I think that old goat Ironhide may start arresting me without cause just to get you back in the precinct house. He won't be able to function without you doing all the heavy lifting anymore."

"Ironhide will be just fine without me getting in his way." Orion smiled, then hugged his best friend. "I'm going to miss you."

"Me too, brother." Roller replied as he squeezed hard before releasing him. "You know that's what you are, right? Slag tradition, slag protocol; I couldn't give two shits about what pool you crawled out from, frankly I'd rather not know, because in my mind, you may have well crawled out right next to me."

Arlon remained stoic. Technically he should admonish Roller for the statement; he was a noble, a royal, and such a belief was taboo in their culture. But their culture be damned, Arlon's internal mechanisms twisted at the idea that he counter what Roller said in any way. Orion was theirs, he belonged with them; he was one of them. By Primus, he was one of them.

"Let's not get all sappy, you high-born dandy." Orion chuckled.

Roller laughed despite his sadness. "Piss off you common mule. I hope Prowl puts you through the ringer. If anything, you'll be back all too soon."

"True, I'm just scared of the damage you'll do while I'm gone though." Orion answered, giving Roller a slap on the shoulder before moving on to Arlon and bowing his head. "Lord Pax, please know how grateful I am for all that you've done for me. I doubt I'd have survived were it not for the grace and kindness of your family. All that I am is what you have taught me, what's honorable, what's just, what's right; these are things that I will take with me everywhere I go and try to leave a lasting imprint of."

"Raise your head." Arlon instructed the youth, who did as he was told. His composure would not fail. "The Honorums will treat you well, there is great honor in serving their house, even temporarily."

"Yes my lord." Orion replied humbly. "I will respect and abide by all the Honorums bid of me, but know that all I do will be to honor House Pax."

"You wish to honor House Pax?" Arlon questioned. "Then treat the lowliest of citizens with the same respect you would me."

Orion smiled broadly, his blue optics shining brightly. "That is why I will honor House Pax…always. Your ideals are my ideals, and I am so proud to have them. My every action will be to devoted to making Cybertron better for all, you have my word."

Arlon's composure faltered, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "It is House Pax that is grateful and honored to have had you with us these past few months. We will be incomplete with you away. We will be made less by your absence. You may have started as a student of our values and ideals, but it is you that we have looked to and will continue to look to as an embodiment of those values and ideals. Take what you've learned, and know that those back home will always be proud of you." Arlon smiled as he watched the youth nod and turn toward the transport, and decided that later that day he would call upon A-Three to help him make some legal arrangements regarding Orion. It would have to be approved by the house, but he knew full well that wouldn't be an issue. It was a major decision, but he knew to the very core of his spark it was the right thing to do. "And Orion, this will always be your home."

Orion turned his head back and smiled widely at the bestial robot. "Thank you my lord." The youth turned once more to Torenia and smiled. "My lady."

"Oh, don't call me that!" Torenia mockingly scolded and she shot forward and embraced Orion again. "I wish you didn't have to go."

"I will be back." Orion replied. "We do live a long time you know, vorns from now you won't even remember me being gone."

"Long lives make us foolish." Torenia replied, her face pressed against Orion's chest. "I see the organics, the mortal creatures, cherishing every moment with one another, recognizing how precious their loved ones are and that their time with them is so very limited. Immortals take these things for granted, thinking there will always be more time with those we love. I pray for more time, but I will never take the time I have with you for granted. You have added so much to my life, you are my son, and you will always be my son. Now be safe, and come back to me whole and filled with life experiences."

"Of course…mother." Orion said, then forced himself away and headed into the shuttle.

Militus Macht

"My lord, Megatron is here." The small gray servant announced to the Emir of Polyhex as he was seated on his throne.

It had been the throne Jugatus Macht had ruled from, controlling Polyhex from it with absolute authority until the threat of Galvatron had forced him to accept the conqueror into his house to appease him and direct his ambitious aggression outward toward other emirates, and then parted with even more power later as Galvatron was stalemated and all emirates were forced into ceding much of their authority to a newly formed central government ruled by the Senate and the Prime. It wasn't until two million years after these events that Militus had been born to House Macht, and then two million years more before he had arranged for the untimely demise of Jugatus in an accident and taken his place as emir. An all but toothless emir that had to either have senate approval for his actions, or act in secrecy, a fact that infuriated him. "Send him in."

Militus rose from the throne, descended the stairs to the floor and approached the large, ornate metal door that the gladiator would be escorted through. A moment later the chrome warrior pushed the door open and walked in, smiling and ever so slightly bowing his head as he caught site of the Emir. "Lord Macht."

"Welcome Megatron." Militus passed by a table, reaching over and grabbing a goblet of engex as he made his way forward, but failing to grab a second goblet for his guest. "You're ready for the pits. Hell, you're way beyond ready, but Terminus convinced me to hold off on having you fight until it was certain that you'd obliterate everything in your path." Militus turned abruptly before reaching Megatron, took a swig of engex without breaking his stride and continued toward a side hallway. Megatron followed after him. "You'll always have your work cut out for you with Grimlock, and a few others may pose a challenge for you, but barring that handful, you're ready even by Terminus's worrisomely high standards. He has served my house well for longer than I can remember, and to that limited recollection his requests concerning your preparation have been his only requests, so I gave him that." They continued down the hallway, passing trophy cases, statues of prominent members of House Macht and other decorative artifacts. "And ultimately I'm glad we waited. True, a few have found out about you and your potential, but for the most part your existence remains unknown. And now you've been honed to perfection. You'll come out of nowhere, the mysterious new champion of House Macht, and be a destructive force of nature, bringing glory and riches to us, and to yourself as well."

"I appreciate the opportunity Lord Macht." Megatron replied with a grin, taking in every detail of the hallway and what he could see of the rooms that they passed. "I also appreciate you making your library available to me. The opportunity to educate myself is nearly as valuable as the opportunity to attain wealth and glory."

"Fine, fine, I want you to be smart." Militus replied. "I demand that my champion be an excellent representative of the House. Some of the fighters out there are complete morons, and that reflects poorly on those they represent. But no matter how smart you become, always remember your place."

"I will always present myself favorably, and those I represent will look all the better for their connection to me." Megatron replied, admiring the decorations and appreciating the historical significance of many of the items on display. "And I will always remember where it is that I come from." An undertone of venom, one too faint for Militus to detect, was present in Megatron's voice.

"That is good to hear." Militus said as they approached a heavily fortified metal door. "It is with that in mind that I would like to show you my House's most sacred artifact." A series of red lights shot out from the wall and scanned the two robots. The lights encasing Militus faded to green and then vanished, but the ones on Megatron remained red, and two large ion canons emerged from the walls. "Militus Macht allowing entrance to Megatron of Tarn."

An automated voice emerged from the wall. "Spark match to scan on record for Megatron of Tarn. Entrance approved."

The large door rolled open, revealing a vast room with even more ornate pieces of art and other artifacts displayed prominently about. The two entered, and while Megatron would normally be very interested in any item in the room, he was immediately drawn toward the encased object in the center of the room. Past the statues, past the scrolls and metal carvings, Megatron and Militus passed them all, not stopping until they were looking upon a large black fusion canon under thick transparent metal casing. "The canon of Machtus. As pristine and flawless today as it was fifteen million years ago when it was presented to the founder of my house. Legend has it that during the sparkeater plague, prior to the Knights of Cybertron joining forces, Machtus rallied Kaon and later all of Polyhex, forming not only an army but organizing all of the scientists, smiths and other tradesmen into creating weapons for this army. In addition to creating arms for the rank and file, the greatest minds of this group set about forming a weapon worthy of Machtus himself. It is said he was very large, very powerful, possessing a green spark, and with this in mind they made a weapon only he could wield. A canon with a nuclear generator housed within, capable of generating a fusion blast that could raze cities and decimate armies. It was with this that he punched through the legions of sparkeaters, rallying with the other Knights, and then leading the charge to push the demons north, up to the polar wastelands and then deep into the bowels of the planet, sealing them within. This was the greatest weapon ever forged, and it is the only known artifact from that war to survive the ages, apart from the Tartarun Gates themselves that is." Militus described the weapon with obvious pride and awe, and for once Megatron did not need to pretend to be as impressed with something as Militus was. "Perhaps the greatest achievement of my house is the care we've taken with preserving its perfection. No erosion, no decay, no wear of any kind. Galvatron wanted to use it for himself; fortunately Jugatus was able to appease him with a recreation that reportedly matched the original in power and durability."

"So it can be recreated?" Megatron asked, studying the weapon with obvious envy.

"Well, the recreation was not exact. Though while it was not the same, the destructive capabilities were close enough so that Galvatron was more than pleased with what he got." Militus explained. "But according to legend, the original remained unequalled in the eyes of all who witnessed both." Militus chuckled. "Of course, this many years later I would be more than happy to have Galvatron's weapon recovered and to give it an honored place here next to Mactus's." Megatron continued staring at the canon as Militus walked next to him. "Look upon this object of perfection, and know that you, like it, are a representation of House Macht's power, greatness and glory. Much is expected of you now Megatron."

"I will be worthy." Megatron replied, his optics still glued to the canon.

Sentinel Prime

Prowl never shut up. True, he was beyond valuable to Sentinel, always had been, he was perhaps the most valuable asset House Honorum had…well, no, let's not go that far. The wealth, influence, holdings, energon deposits, and various other things were far more valuable than Prowl, but as far as commoners go, he was by far the most useful. Hell, he wasn't even a commoner anymore, he was a vassal. Sentinel had given him his own title and holdings, though he kept his low nobility to himself, apparently afraid he'd be treated differently by his underlings. Of course he'd be treated differently by them, he'd be treated better by them. But the grunt wanted to remain being seen as a grunt. Fine, his choice.

But however he wanted himself viewed in terms of his social standing, there was no hiding the fact that he was an analytical nightmare to anyone within audio reception range. Yes, some of the details he constantly spewed were very useful, but most of the time it just gave Sentinel a headache. "I understand Prowl, please see to the details, delegate accordingly, whatever, you're more than capable of dealing with the Guiding Hand followers' pilgrimage."

"Understood sir." Prowl replied, standing in front of the large window that Prime was looking out of at the view of Iacon. Cybertropolis was the capital, and where the Prime was supposed to be located most of the time, but Iacon was not only Sentinel's home, but the most influential city on the planet. "Next, I'd like to discuss…"

"How's the new kid working out?" Sentinel Prime interrupted.

"New kid?" Prowl asked, thrown for a moment by the interruption and new topic. "Oh, Orion. Quite well actually. These last two weeks have proven very beneficial for both him and us, and despite his age we've entered him in the Academy, remote training of course so that we can have him patrolling here in Iacon."

"Good, I want him on the streets." Prime replied, staring past Prowl out over his city. "Your friend Ironhide has done a fine job teaching him the basics, and we can use him here."

"Well, he's not really my frie…"

"Plus I think we need to keep a closer eye on him." Sentinel Prime added.

"Why is that, sir?" Prowl asked, but at seeing Prime's optics shift from an appraising look at the city to a stern glare into his own optics, he realized what his leader was referring to. "Yes, I am aware that he has been visiting the Autobot prisoners."

"And this doesn't concern you?" Prime asked.

"It's…well, yes, I suppose it's a little troubling." Prowl replied hesitantly. "But it's not in violation of any law or rule, and he's followed every protocol for visiting prisoners, so I don't see what action I can take."

"None." Sentinel Prime replied, shifting his gaze back out the window. "At least none right now. But keep your optics on him. I brought him here because he shows great potential, but the last thing I need is someone rocking the boat. Especially some commoner raised and educated as a royal. His very existence alone might blur lines that aren't meant to be blurred, and Autobots putting ideas in his head will only make that worse."

"Of course sir, I'll keep you abreast of all he does and who he sees." Prowl replied. "I'll wait for your instruction on whether some sort of intervention is needed."

"Good." Prime answered, his disinterest growing. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes Prime." Prowl came back. "I have received word that Nightbeat is currently off-world. I know he is on a personal assignment for you, so I won't ask for details regarding what he is doing, but I would like to know when I can expect to have him back at my disposal."

"When he's done." Prime replied. "I do wish I could give you a more firm timeline than that, but unfortunately I truly don't know how long this will take him. Honestly, it probably will take him a great deal of time; I wish that wasn't the case, but you really should plan on not having him around for the foreseeable future."

"I…I understand." Prowl replied, not altogether satisfied with the answer, but knowing that was the best he was going to get.

"Now, unless the next thing on your list involves Iacon burning, I'd like to table it for later and be alone for a while." Sentinel stated as he rose from his chair and walked past Prowl to peer out the window more directly.

"Of course sir." Prowl replied. "Contact me if you need anything."

Sentinel continued staring out the window until he heard the door shut behind Prowl. "Computer, prepare table for holographic projection of a memory."

"Source of memory?" The automated voice asked.

"Brain module of Sentinel Prime." Prime replied as he turned away from the window, walked to the table in the center of the room, and sat down.

"There exist inherent dangers with directly interfacing a brain module." The voice explained.

"Noted…for the millionth time. Proceed none the less." Prime replied, plugging a cord from the table into his neck.

"Acknowledged." The voice replied. "Enable accessibility of memory and direct." Sentinel nodded as he mentally made the adjustments and led the invasive programming toward what he wished to see brought to life. "Memory found, recreation commencing."

Lights burst forth from the tabletop, and they began forming images, primarily the image of a large predominantly orange and maroon robot with a silver face smiling back at whoever was looking at it. "So you want to know how I knew I would be the greatest of Primes, huh?"

"Yes sir." Sentinel's disembodied voice shot back enthusiastically, a voice that seemed younger, less cynical and less arrogant.

The robot's smile broadened. "Look kid, you can call me Guardian…wait, scratch that. We're brothers, born of House Honorum, the greatest of all of Cybertron's houses, and you and I, well, let's face it, we were born to be the greatest of the Honorums. Call me Gallus, and know that you're the only one to call me Gallus."

"Of course si…Gallus!" Sentinel's younger voice replied with glee. "Thank you."

"So, let's see, oh yes," the image of Guardian Prime continued, "I had made quite a name for myself, fought in and won many battles, which was unique in that nobody else could do squat against Galvatron's forces. But I fought, and I won, and I kept winning. And I talked. I made speeches, I rallied the nobles, I rallied the commoners, I rallied everyone. They all were quick to join my cause, to follow me into battle, and I ran across some general from Uraya, and, well, OK, I may have misspoken when I said I was the only one to have any success against Galvatron, because I guess this guy had won a battle or two as well. But nowhere near the success I had had."

"Who was he?" The young Sentinel asked.

"Not really sure. He gave me a commoner name, though for some reason he struck me as noble." Guardian Prime answered, his face taking a look of deep reflection. "It was so long ago, but I even thought he may have been from House Trion. Not sure, probably because he said he was originally from the Crystal City. Anyway, soon into combining our efforts he took me into private and told me I was destined for greatness, that I was the one that he had been waiting for, that I was the Prime who was Promised. I had no idea of what he was talking about, so he recited this prophesy, one given by some aliens that had visited intelligent creatures on this planet that predated us. Anyway, he said the prophesy was about me."

"What was the prophesy?" The younger voice asked excitedly.

Guardian Prime grinned widely before answering. "And you, Iacon in the land of Nova Cronum, are by no means the least among the rulers of Cybertron; for from a region within your borders, a land of great life but barren of sparks, will come a Prime who will shepherd the peoples of Cybertron, and be the salvation for the peoples of many worlds. He shall be a hunter of peace, but an astounding warrior, who will ensure the right to freedom for all."

There was a pause as the young Sentinel took this in. "It's you…except the Honorus Pool is not barren."

"It was at the time of this prophesy." Guardian Prime noted.

"Oh," Sentinel's young voice replied, "then yes, it's you." The images flickered and disappeared as Sentinel Prime withdrew the jack from his neck. "No," he said as he stood, a broad smile etched on his face, "it's me."

Blaster

The first couple times the cadet visited him Blaster was sure it was some sort of set-up, some scheme to get him to divulge information on the other Autobots. By the third time this Orion came with his questions Blaster was starting to wonder if the young robot could be genuine. Now he was nearly convinced; no, he wouldn't be giving the cop-wannabe any details about his organization or its members, but Orion had yet to ask anything along those lines. "Back again, huh kid?"

"Yes." Orion said as he came to a stop in front of the bars humming with electricity. "If this is in any way an inco…"

"Inconvenient I'll be happy to go." Blaster replied with these words from Orion when he said it the last time that he visited. "Relax kid, I'm kinda warmin' up to you." Blaster looked the youth over. "You look a little worn."

"Just finished four hours of combat training with Delta and Ultra Magnus." Orion explained. "They know their stuff, and they're pretty damn strong."

"I should hope so, they're layered in armored enhancements." Blaster replied. "I actually don't mind House Magnus all that much, they're just a bit too rigid with the law and order stuff. Everything has to be by the book with them."

"I think that would be a good thing." Orion said as he leaned against the wall behind him. "But I forgot, you're fighting the system."

"No, the system is fighting us." Blaster corrected. "We started out with peaceful protests, distribution of fliers, manifestos, broadcasts and so on, all law-abiding, orderly and by the book. It's the powers that be that came at us and started the fighting. Even now, the most extensive damage we do involves elaborate pranks."

"You assaulted the Prime and his entourage." Orion replied.

"You call that an assault?" Blaster grinned.

"Yes I do." Orion replied. "So will the courts."

"You call it assault, the courts will call it attempted murder, or Primicide, or whatever." Blaster responded.

"No they won't." Orion countered.

Blaster laughed. "You really have spent your entire life in the Torus Heights, haven't you?"

"Aside from these last couple of weeks, yes." Orion answered. "What does that have to do with this?"

"It has everything to do with this." Blaster explained. "Look kid, if there were thirteen Arlon Pax's ruling the thirteen emirates of Cybertron, we Autobots wouldn't exist. Commoners have rights in the Torus Heights, they are entitled to an education, they are entitled to safety and security; for crying out loud, the words of House Pax aren't about their honor or greatness, it's 'Freedom is the Right of All Sentient Beings'. But that philosophy ends at the Heights' borders." The captive peered intently at the young robot. "You've been here a couple weeks, surely you've seen enough to know things are done a bit differently here in Iacon."

Orion nodded and looked down. "Yes, I've seen things that I…do not agree with." He then looked back up at the prisoner. "But change can occur within the confines of the law."

"Ha!" Blaster laughed. "The laws, while a long way from being just, would be sufficient for me were it not for one simple fact; they don't apply to lords and ladies."

"The constitution and laws apply to every citizen of Cybertron." Orion replied, though he had seen enough to know how childish that sounded.

"You really are a kid." Blaster smiled at him. "I like you. Unfortunately I'll probably not like you once you've reached the point where reality and self-preservation overwrite your sense of idealism."

"I was raised by House Pax." Orion replied. "I will undoubtedly lose my naiveté, but I will always fight for true justice."

"Well Orion of House Pax," Blaster replied with a sad but light-hearted chuckle, "I genuinely hope you never change."

Ogrus Onyx

"Single combat has been played out." Ogrus announced to the hulking gray and yellow robot standing by the door of the large room surrounded by guards. "Oh, there will always be single combat, and it will always be popular and most likely the heart of the games, but it's time to branch out." The Emir of Nyon rose from his chair, walking across the floor but maintaining a very safe distance from the heavily shackled robot. "I may despise the inclusion of Ankmor into our fighting circuit, but they've breathed new life into the events, adding themes to the battles, including team fights and full scale battle reenactments."

"I fight alone." The unwilling guest growled.

"You fight in whatever manner I want you to fight!" Ogrus snarled, stomping toward the subdued warrior but stopping well out of the range of any sort of danger. "The only reason you're still alive is because you fight, and win, for me! Never forget that!"

"The only reason you're still alive is because you enable me to fight, and win, for me!" The warrior grumbled. "Otherwise I'd have found a way out of these shackles and eaten your spark years ago."

"Such insubordination will lead to your smelting, Grimlock!" Ogrus snarled.

"Do your worst!" Grimlock roared, lunging forward, causing Ogrus to jerk away and fall to the floor. The six hulking guards all set upon him, but he merely laughed at their efforts to subdue or punish him. He wanted to humiliate the head of House Onyx, and upon succeeding he just stared and laughed, shrugging off the beating. He swatted away a couple of the guards and addressed Ogrus one more time. "Hun-Grr and his training partners already fight very well together, use them for your battles."

"I will." Ogrus grumbled as he rose back to his feet. "But I want you as well. Starscream Nexus…"

"HA!" The thunderous sound of Grimlock's genuine laugh shook some of the decorations in the room. "There's no way that ego-maniacal glory-whore is fighting with a team!"

Ogrus snorted. "You're right, but he has put one together, and they've wiped out every team they've faced, including one I put together. And to add insult to injury, he's modified their shells into bestial forms."

"Who's on this team?" Grimlock chuckled.

"Razorclaw, Divebomb,"

"Rampage, Tantrum and Headstrong." Grimlock finished the list. "Razorclaw's tribe."

"You know of his tribal affiliation?" Ogrus asked, genuinely surprised.

"Some fighters fight better in the proximity of specific individuals." Grimlock explained. "Hun-Grr's team is drawn to one another, as is Razorclaw's team."

"So we'll need to get you a tribe." Ogrus suggested. "If it makes you fight better…"

"No, this isn't common. In fact, it's so rare almost nobody knows about it. Those it affects rarely if ever notice it. I've just been around enough to have seen it. Some people are just inexplicably drawn to other people, they typically share common interests, so maybe it's not all that inexplicable, but there's more to it than just common interests, and it makes them…better." Grimlock looked down as he explained, but then turned to peer directly at Ogrus. "But as I said, it's beyond rare, and it definitely doesn't apply to me."

Ogrus shrugged. "Interesting, but ultimately it doesn't matter whether it applied to you or not. You will fight on a team, one that I've already selected for you." The Emir walked back to his thrown and sat down. "Though this should be seen as good news by you. While you may not share a spark-based romantic pull toward them,"

Grimlock chuckled. "I'd be happy to refer to Razorclaw, Hun-Grr and their crews as needy, emotional, candy-ass romantics, but the fact is that the pull has nothing to do with the attraction I have for certain femmes, or that you have for turbo-foxes."

"Silence!" Ogrus stood up and roared, enraged at the insult but recognizing that he couldn't, or rather wouldn't, act on it. "You will report to the pit and begin training with your team! I have selected Swoop,"

"Scrawny beanpole."

"Snarl,"

"Whiney bitch."

"Sludge,"

"Moron. Wait, no,"

"and Sl…"

"No!"

"ag."

"Shit!"

Orion

It was a slow night in central Iacon, though a slow night here was at least fifty times busier and more dangerous than the busiest of nights in Polarus. Orion drove through the street, maneuvering like a street racer half his size. While the bustle and sheer number of people seemed daunting his first couple of days, he had quickly grown accustomed to it and was now more proficient at getting around than most natives. The people were ruder, more impatient, and far more self-involved than the people of Polarus, but Orion was growing to like them for the most part. Of course, there were always exceptions, and the sight of six large robots dragging two smaller robots out of a pub and into the street was a good reminder of that. Orion sped ahead, weaving between other Cybertronians in vehicle mode and the occasional ground shuttle until he reached the skirmish and transformed. "Enough!"

"Piss off, this is none of your business!" One of the large, well-polished aggressors barked out at him.

"Iacon Constabulary!" Orion barked back. "Release those citizens and stand down!"

The apparent leader of the group chuckled and walked toward Orion, but turned his head back to address his friends. "Keep these two warm for me, I'll be right back." He continued toward the red and blue robot, stopping in front of him. He was large, the same height and bulk as Orion, but less tapered in the waist. "Funny, I know all the cops in Iacon, but I don't recognize you."

Orion glared at him. "I am Orion of Polarus, and I suggest you instruct your friends to release those two or things are going to turn very ugly for you very fast."

The other robot displayed a grin. "Ah, you're new, I get it. No harm done, you just don't know."

"I must not." Orion replied. "What I do know is that if those two are not released in five seconds, I will be taking you and all your friends down and have you arrested."

"Whoah, settle down hero." The arrogant robot replied angrily. "Shut up and listen before you get yourself in trouble. My name is Lucox Honorum." The arrogant royal stared intently at Orion, fully expecting a look of shock and submission to come over the constable's face. When none came a surprised Lucox continued. "You have heard of House Honorum where you're from, haven't you?"

"Of course. I'm here at the behest of Sentinel Prime." Orion replied. "And that has no bearing on the fact that you and your friends will either release those individuals, or I will make you release those individuals."

"Excuse me?" Lucox said disbelievingly. "Are you slaggin' kidding me? You need to go back to the precinct house and have someone explain how things work here."

"I have a complete understanding of the legal code, I am well aware of how things work here, and you and your friends are now under arrest." Orion replied. "Turn and submit to apprehension or I will have to apprehend you forcibly."

"Slag you, you foreign low-born piece of shit!" Lucox roared as he took a swing at Orion's head. Orion caught the flying fist in his hand, gave a crooked grin before head-butting the Honorum in the face, sending him to the ground.

The five other members of Lucox's group immediately released the two they were holding and charged Orion. "I am an officer of the law," Orion warned as he easily dodge the first attack, and parried away the second, "you will be charged with assaulting a peace officer unless you stand down right now!"

The two that had already attacked Orion and been pushed away regained their balance and stood on either side of the officer while the other two helped Lucox up. "Bitch, you have no idea of what you just did." Lucox growled. "I've been trained in hand to hand combat by Sentinel Prime himself, I'm fitted with the best light weight armor and have had high end press-enhancements added in as well." He gave Orion an arrogant grin. "And my friends are pretty damn enhanced too. While you, hell, you look pretty raw. Some tires and motors slapped on a birthday suit."

"It's good you've all been upgraded." Orion allowed himself a little bravado. "I won't have to hold back…well, not as much as I would have."

Lucox chuckled. "Kick his ass boys."

For the next four minutes they charged and attacked the lone constable, the five of them swarming on Orion. After the four minutes, they were all on the ground, battered, several broken limbs, a lot of leaking fluids, and more than a little bit of whimpering, and above them all stood Orion. "You are all under arrest."

Lucox Honorum turned his battered and dented face up to glare at Orion. "Your life, is over."

Exponum One

They had taken common transportation, a royal shuttle had no place anywhere in Polyhex, unless of course it was a Macht shuttle, and even then one needed to be careful in Rodion. But Exponum had made this journey many times before, and felt very comfortable with the trip. Well, perhaps not this time. He looked over to his family member Elita Solus, and worried for her safety. She was beyond proficient in hand to hand combat, but in this environment the numbers would be against them should things go badly, and even the best fighters couldn't do much against multiple opponents. Fortunately he saw his friend waving to them from in front of the transport he had had for several vorns, a large, gray, boring but reliable cargo-hauler with an equally boring cab. Exponum smiled at his old friend. "Ratchet, it's so good to see you again."

"Hello Exponum, great to see you too." Ratchet said as they shook wrists, turning to look at the femme next to the Emir of Axiom. "And this must be Lady Elita of House Solus. How are you my lady?"

"Please, just Elita." Elita replied smiling at the old doctor. "Exponum has told me so much about you."

"I don't mean to rush," Exponum interrupted, "but I'd like to load the supplies and get to the safety of your clinic."

"Of course." Ratchet replied. Rodion had been his home for several vorns, but he knew how treacherous it could be. "Why don't the two of you get in the cab and I'll load the supplies."

"No, we're more than capable…"

"Thank you Ratchet, that's a great idea." Exponum interrupted Elita and led her to the transport. Once inside the cab he continued. "It's not about labor, my child, it's about safety."

"Why, because I'm a femme?" Elita snapped. "I can mop the floor with any one of these guys."

"Yes, and you may do alright against two, perhaps even hold your own against three, but they'll swarm you if they sense there's even the most meager thing to gain from it." Exponum replied. "This is nothing like Hyperious. Crime is simply the way of life here, honor is an alien concept, they will take what they want from you and then use your body in whatever way they wish."

"Use my body?" Elita asked. "For what?"

Exponum stared straight ahead and fidgeted uncomfortably. "Have you ever heard of spark mingling?"

"Yes, but it's not true." Elita replied. "Something degenerates concocted as a way to replicate sexual intercourse for us."

"Well my dear, there are a great many degenerates here." Exponum replied as they heard the thuds of the boxes of supplies they had brought from Axiom being loaded in the back.

"Then why are we helping them?" Elita asked.

"Because there are also a lot of good people here too." Exponum replied. "Our authority ends at the borders of Axiom, but the good we can do need not."

"Yes, do what we can do, help who we can help, until all are one in contentment and happiness." Elita rattled off. "Perhaps those should be our words."

"I would have no problem if they were." Exponun replied with a smile. "But even though they're not, they are good words to live by."

"Yes sir." Elita replied, looking out the window at the hordes of individuals, nearly all worn down and in various states of disrepair, walking through the streets, most seemingly aimlessly. She studied these unfortunate souls for several minutes before the driver's side door swung open and Ratchet climbed in.

"On to the safety of your clinic." Exponum announced enthusiastically as Ratchet pulled away from the curb.

"Yeah, safety." Ratchet replied. "It really has been awhile since you've been here, hasn't it?"

"How much could it have changed?" Exponum asked, but noting that things did seem a bit worse outside than he remembered.

"Well, there's this fighting circuit that, depending on the House, either the nobles are secretly sponsoring or plugging their heads in the sand about." Ratchet looked over at his guests. "No offense."

"None taken." Both members of House Solus replied in unison.

"Anyway, from what I can tell there's a major training facility around here, and they sometimes have their tournaments here. In fact, based on how the locals have been acting lately, I think there's something going on now." Ratchet explained. "So with this underground fight club, the drugs, gambling and all the other wonderful things that accompany money-making illicit campaigns have come to town…well, more than there was before."

"Has this affected your clinic?" Exponum asked, a little worry in his voice.

"Well, more people needing medical help, and whereas before most of the help I provided was for neglect, accidents or the occasional injuries due to violence, I'm now dealing almost exclusively with victims of violent crime or speeder overdoses." Ratchet grumbled. "And I'm losing patients. It slaggin' kills me, but some of these poor souls are losing their sparks to all of this nonsense."

"I've heard of the circuit." Elita whispered, but loud enough for them to hear. "But I've also heard that Sentinel Prime, and Zeta Prime before him were actively trying to bring it down."

"Not actively enough." Ratchet mumbled. "Zeta's dead, probably killed by the gangsters running this thing, and now that he's Prime and no longer Security Chief, Sentinel won't care until dead bodies start showing up in Iacon."

Elita turned and stared in amazement at Ratchet. Her head turned back to Exponum as she felt his hand rest on her shoulder. "My friend Ratchet has no problem speaking his mind, even in regards to the Prime. I trust you'll take the statements as they're meant to be taken, my dear."

"Heh, the kid isn't used to the voice of dissent." Ratchet chuckled.

"I'm used to it, but I'm used to it being delivered with far more respect." Elita replied. "He is the Prime after all."

Ratchet paused for a moment before responding. "Hopefully you're taking Exponum's request to take my statements as they're meant to be taken to heart, but I'm old enough to remember a time when Prime's were chosen by the Matrix, not chosen by senators doing the bidding of the high houses of the lands they come from and represent."

"So you don't consider Sentinel, or Zeta for that matter, to be real Primes?" Elita asked, eliciting a chuckle from Exponum.

"Nope." Ratchet replied. "And Sentinel can come down here and beat me up all he wants, but it won't change my opinion."

"I'm not sure I like your cynical attitude toward our senate or our chosen Prime." Elita replied. "But you are entitled to your opinion."

"Thank you my lady." Ratchet replied, a hint of mirth in his voice.

"You probably aren't fond of nobles or royals, are you?" Elita pressed.

"Depends on the nobles or royals we're talking about." Ratchet replied.

"The system of noble and ruling houses." Elita clarified.

"Oh, that." Ratchet muttered as he turned the vehicle onto a smaller road. "Yeah, not a fan of it."

Elita glared at the medic. "Are you an Autobot?"

Ratchet laughed. "Not ambitious enough to be an Autobot. They want to change the world, I don't."

"And yet you're running a clinic far from your home, in what may be the worst city on the planet." Exponum pointed out.

"I'm in for fixing a few boo-boos, not unseating the system that has run our society for fifteen million years." Ratchet replied, directing the truck around a bot that was passed out in the middle of the road.

"Our system has only been around for eight million years." Elita replied.

"The senate has only been around for eight, but people crawling out of the same pits that spawned the Knights of Cybertron and demanding dominance because of it has been going on for nearly twice that time." Ratchet explained. "Gallus Honorum couldn't stand up against Galvatron's army without a few hundred thousand commoners doing the grunt work, and to win us over he needed to toss us a bone." Ratchet pulled up to a decrepit looking building and came to a stop. "That bone was the senate, an organization that supposedly was meant to hear our voices and take them into account, but, well, yeah." Ratchet explained as he got out of the truck and shut the door.

Elita looked to Exponum in disbelief at how the commoner doctor had spoken to her, and was met by a broad smile from her elder. "It's tough to hear my dear, but he's right."

"This is treason." Elita grumbled.

"No, this is three friends having a discussion." Exponum explained. "You say you made friends with a Pax, this should be nothing new to you. If anything, the Royal House of Pax is a more commoner-friendly than my friend Ratchet." He chuckled as she groaned a reply. "And remember, he is a friend, and someone who is doing a tremendous amount of good in an area that is completely neglected by the noble and royal houses around here. We do help, but it's sending a few supplies and visiting from time to time. Ratchet uprooted his existence, left an amazingly lucrative practice to help who he could help here. We'll be going home in a few hours; this is his existence."

Elita nodded. "Yes sir, he does what he can do, he helps who he can help, and he does a much better job of both than we do."

"He does a very different job of both than we do." Exponum replied. "We lack his skills, but we have resources. But in order to make the most of our resources, we must do it from the throne of Axiom."

Elita nodded again. "I understand. And I suppose that the good he does more than offsets the anti-establishment ideas he spews."

Suddenly the door swung open and Ratchet poked his head into the cab. "We've got to get you out of here."

"Why?" Exponum asked. "What's going on?" Ratchet disappeared but came back with an unconscious robot. "Primus, is that Stitch?"

"Yes, he'll be OK, but we need to get out of here." Ratchet reiterated as he shoved the non-moving Stitch into the laps of his guests.

"But wouldn't we be better able to treat him in the clinic?" Elita asked.

"Whoever did this is still here!" Ratchet grumbled. Elita stared at the doctor for a moment before pushing past Exponum and jumping out of the cab. "Elita, get your ass back in here!" Ratchet roared.

"They wouldn't dare touch a member of Axiom's ruling family!" She spat back as she marched toward the front door.

"Yes they slaggin' would!" Ratchet roared as he jumped out and ran around the truck to stop her from going inside. He was too late, watching as she marched right in. Exponum followed him in as well, and watched in horror as two large thugs stepped in front of Elita and planted a hand on each shoulder.

"Clinic's closed!" One of the thugs announced, pushing Elita back.

"Got it, we'll see ourselves out." Ratchet replied, grabbing Elita by the arm and trying to pull her toward the door.

Elita jerked her arm away and walked back toward the thugs. "This is the property of Ratchet, he determines whether the clinic is open or not!" She spat, looking from one set of optics to the other. "And this is a medical clinic. People who need help find it here. How dare you interfere with that? How dare you keep people from getting treatment that may save their life?"

The two thugs looked at each other and suppressed laughter. "Look femme, I suggest you get the slag out of here before we decide that you'll never get the slag out of here."

"Bring it!" Elita challenged, and took on a fighter's stance.

"I'm sorry, but did I hear that the proprietor of this fine medical establishment was present?" A voice from the back rang out, causing the thugs to stop their advance on Elita. A moment later a boxy tan and purple robot marched out and smiled broadly at them. "Hello." He marched forward and extended his hand toward Ratchet. "Ratchet is it?" He noted the hesitant nod from the boxy white and red robot. "Great. How would you like to make a few credits doing what you normally do?"

"If I were that interested in credits, I'd still be in the Crystal City." Ratchet replied, but considered the situation. "How many patients and what's wrong with them?"

The tan and purple intruder smiled broadly. "Just one. Right leg is mangled, might need a complete replacement. Lots of other dings, but his internal systems can handle those."

Ratchet nodded. "His injuries, how were they sustained?"

The other robot shrugged and shifted his body uncomfortably. "Welllll,"

"I know it was in the course of committing a crime, but there are gradients to crimes, and certain levels of scumbags that I won't offer my help to."

Ratchet's explanation brought a smile to the criminal's face. "Yes, it was a criminal activity, but nobody was victimized."

"Gladiator?" Ratchet asked, exasperation clear in his voice.

"Gladiator." The boxy criminal replied.

"Alright, bring me to him," Ratchet said, "but first, your associates are going to apologize to the lady. Second, we're going to wake up my associate and anyone who touched him will apologize to him as well. And these apologies, they better be sincere or I'll make it so that you're gladiator is going to be wearing his spark on the outside of his frame. Oh, and while I don't want any money from this, you will be reimbursing me for every expense that occurs from this. Got it?"

"More than fair." The gangster, Swindle, looked to his henchmen.

Both henchmen nodded and looked to Elita. "We're sorry." They said in unison.

"They'll revive your associate and make amends with him as well." Swindle assured Ratchet.

"Fine, take me to my patient." Ratchet grumbled. They walked down the hallway and into a room where an exquisite looking but scuffed up yellow robot was standing in the corner and a brawny red robot with a destroyed right leg was seated on the table. "Sweet Primus, you really got your ass handed to you, didn't you?"

The red robot shrugged. "It was three on one, and I won." He looked down at his leg. "Believe it or not, the other guys are worse."

"Uh huh." Ratchet replied as he got to work on the leg. "So why aren't they here?"

"They're locals." The red robot, Sideswipe, replied. "And they fight for a noble house, so they've got their own set up. And as Swindle here's a"

"No names!" Swindle growled. "I assumed the Autobots would have taught you the importance of operating incognito."

"Yeah, this guy is going to bust you out to whatever passes for law enforcement in this shithole." The pretty yellow one snickered.

"Anyway, being commoners our noble hosts did not feel inclined to offer their medical facilities and staff to us, sooooo, we decided to use your clinic." Sideswipe finished explaining.

"Guiding Hand, you really tore this up." Ratchet grumbled as he scrutinized the injury closely. "This will take most of the day." He then looked to Swindle. "I'll patch him up, then you get out of here and never come back." The annoyed medic then turned back to his red patient and pointed at him. "I never want to see this guy on my table again."

Prowl

It had been years since he had stepped foot in this particular precinct house. According to reports it had started out as a slow night, but given the bustle of activity going on now, that had changed. But Prowl wasn't interested in the overall level of crime, he was only interested in one particular incident. As he walked through the front area he caught the notice of the desk sergeant, who frowned and shook his head. "He beat you here. Already with the young lord and his friends, getting their side of things."

"And the kid?" Prowl asked as he stopped in front of the desk.

"We have him in Interrogation Room C." The sergeant, a moderately maintained bulky orange robot, replied. "Ran a full med scan on him a couple hours ago. Sent the results to House Honorum the moment we had them. They said they were the only ones to have access to the results, but I did get a copy for you, figuring you'd be the one to be doing any leg work concerning them." The sergeant said as he handed Prowl a data pad.

"Thank you sergeant." Prowl said, taking the pad and heading toward the room in question.

"It's a real shame." The sergeant called out. "The kid was a natural."

Prowl just continued on, ignoring the comment and passing through the dozens of robots between the front office and the interrogation rooms. He finally got to the room they were holding him in, and he entered. There, seated at the table in the center of the room was Orion. Prowl shook his head. "Did you know he was an Honorum?"

Orion nodded. "Yes, he identified himself."

"Did you have any reason to doubt the veracity of his claim?"

"No, I knew he was telling the truth." Orion answered.

Prowl just stared at him for a moment. "Come on kid, give me something to work with here."

"All I have is the truth." Orion replied, devoid of fear or any degree of remorse.

Prowl let out a pained chuckle before leaning toward the young commoner. "Do you have any idea of what you've done?"

Orion nodded. "My job."

Prowl sat in a chair across from the youngster. "You truly don't know how things work, do you?"

"On the contrary, I'm well aware of how things work." Orion replied. "But just because they work that way, that they've always worked that way, does not make them right. I will be prosecuted, I will be punished, both legally and socially, I will be made an example of, I may even be killed, but I will be right." The powerful young robot shrugged. "And that's all I strive to be."

"Primus," Prowl grumbled as he rubbed his hand over his head, "you are a Pax."

Orion smiled. "Thank you. I'd say you are an Honorum, but you seem genuinely conflicted by what's about to happen to me."

Prowl looked at the robot with an expressionless face. "Let's keep that our little secret. You're allowed to do that, aren't you?"

Orion nodded. "Yes, I can keep most secrets, and that one seems innocuous enough."

Prowl stared sadly at the cadet. "I'm sorry kid, but I really don't see how I can help you."

Orion shrugged, laconically accepting his fate. "I know you can't. I will have my say, I will honestly explain what happened and how I was justified, and if that's not enough, then so be it."

The door was suddenly thrown open and Sentinel Prime stormed in. "What the slag did you think you were doing?" He roared at the young captive.

Orion, not cowed at all, merely stared up at the Prime and replied in a calm steady voice. "Upholding the law and protecting citizens."

"You laid your hands on a royal!" Prime bellowed. "A member of MY House!"

"He and his friends were assaulting two individuals." Orion explained, knowing it was pointless but doing so anyway. "I ordered them to stop, they refused. Your kinsman identified himself, expecting that his name would allow him to do whatever he wished and that I would back off."

"His name does allow him to do whatever he wishes!" Prime snarled.

"The law says otherwise." Orion replied. "Guardian Prime said otherwise."

Sentinel Prime leaned forward and planted his palms on the table, glaring heatedly into Orion's optics. "Guardian Prime is dead; I'm not. You really should have been more cognizant of what I want, not what Guardian said to shut the mouths of the countless common shits out there." Sentinel stood back up and smiled condescendingly down at Orion. "Some commoners can become more than shit. Prowl here is a lord, with lands and a title. I gave him those because he proved he was more than his common origin. You had the potential to do the same. You're smart, you're physically gifted, but you have a downside that more than offsets those positives. You forgot your origins. You forgot you were shit. Had you waited until one of your betters had enhanced your status in some way, you might have been OK feeling entitled to certain airs…not what you did tonight, you'd never be permitted to do that, but you could get away with a few things. But you thought being some sort of constable in training entitled you to lay hands on and assault a member of the highest house on the planet. Lucox emerged from the great Pool of Honorus, as did I, as did Gallus Honorum, as did Honorus himself!" Sentinel Prime growled. "You didn't even emerge from the Pool of Paxus." Sentinel Prime straightened up to his full height and pulled out a data pad. "You somehow emerged from a mountain on Insula Avalonius."

"What?" Prowl coughed out. "That's impossible."

Sentinel Prime crossed his arms and nodded, never breaking his glare at the cadet that had beaten down his kinsman. "I had a scan run on him, always knew the Paxes were hiding something about this kid's origins, and the dumb shit gave me the perfect pretext to dig into it." The Prime shook his head, almost humorously. "The database couldn't make heads or tails of his composition. It was damn near alien. In the end we had to have our satellites conduct deep geologic scans to find materials that could create this…thing." His explanation to Prowl over, he now directed his words back toward Orion. "You're not just some common shit born somewhere in the Torus Heights," Prime leaned in again, planted his hands on the table again, and brought his face to within inches of Orion's, "you're a freak of nature who was born well within the borders of Iacon, which means that your ass is mine even more so than it already was."

Orion continued staring at him, still devoid of fear, but recognizing his situation was much, much worse than he had assumed it had been.


	5. Chapter 5

Jazz

They were screwed. There was no two ways about it, they would be tried for attacking the Prime and whatever other charges Prowl could trump up against them, and they would be either executed or stuck working in the deepest pits of the Honorum mines until their bodies got too worn to sustain their sparks any further. Even if Perceptor could get the Lord Commander of the Wardens to speak on their behalf, it would do them little good, and chances are Kup would refuse to lift a finger to help them; Perceptor had obtained proper leave to attend to personal matters, but his vows to remain apolitical were still in place until his tour with the Wardens came to a close. No, they were screwed.

What made it all the worse was that they were separated. Jazz was surrounded by cells, but they were either empty or occasionally occupied with strangers who would come and go before he really got a chance to get to know any of them. As the corridor doors started to click, indicating they were being unlocked, he prepared for another short-term prisoner to pass the time gabbing with. The sound of footsteps bounced off the wall, the same familiar ones of the four guards that always escorted the new prisoners to their cells, and the one unknown set belonging to the new prisoner. Jazz had made a game of trying to derive information about the new prisoner based on the sounds of his or her footfalls. Based on the stride, someone likely tall with long legs, based on the sound, heavy, no, light, nooooo, large, but light on their feet, likely a good athlete. While there was no way to glean any details involving color from the footsteps, Jazz guessed the newcomer to be green, with white or cream face and extremities. The group rounded the corner and stopped in front of the cell across the hall from Jazz, opened the cell door and pushed the prisoner in, shutting the door behind him. The guards quickly walked away, leaving Jazz to stare at the robot that had been the cause of he and his comrades' incarceration. "You!"

The other robot looked across the hall at the seated Jazz rising to his feet, glaring angrily at him, and simply nodded. "Hello Jazz, my name is Orion."

"I know your damn name!" Jazz snarled. "You kicked my ass on a roof and then jumped down from that roof to kick my ass some more! Trust me, I'm not forgetting your name."

"Yes, but we'd yet to be properly introduced." Orion replied, remaining amicable. "I've met with Blaster and Perceptor several times, but I had not gotten a chance to speak with you yet."

Jazz peered quizzically at the robot across from him. "So you got yourself arrested just to have this chat?"

Orion laughed. "No, of course not." He peered down at the ground for a moment. "I'm being charged with assault on a member of a royal house." He looked up and saw Jazz's optics widen in surprise. "I arrested Lucox Honorum and a few of his friends for assault outside of a bar in downtown Iacon. They resisted, so…"

Jazz nodded. "Right. But why did you arrest him. You had to know he was an Honorum."

"Yes, he told me. But it didn't matter, he was breaking the law." Orion answered. "Nobody is above the law."

Jazz laughed. "I'm afraid they are everywhere outside the Torus Heights, kid."

Orion looked off to the left. "That needs to change."

Jazz backed up and sat back down. "You know, I should be rejoicing at hearing this. Lucox and his prissy noble sycophant bitch squad catch a beating, and the guy who landed me and my pals in this dungeon is getting in trouble for it." The Autobot looked his apprehender over a bit more before continuing. "But you're just a naïve kid who did what he thought was right in Polarus, so it's hard to take pleasure in your misfortune, despite the ringing I still have in my head from that punch of yours."

"What I did in Polarus was right." Orion curtly corrected. "I may be at odds with Sentinel Prime and customs he's trying to keep in place, but that doesn't change the fact that your group was assaulting him in Polarus and needed to be stopped."

"We were using glue guns, for Primus's sake!" Jazz grumbled. "And even then, we minded our P's and Q's until the Primal goon squad was ordered to come and get us."

"I've already debated this with Blaster several times," Orion replied, "and while I recognize your frustrations and the failings in the system, I cannot accept your course of action in Polarus as being in any way justifiable."

Jazz shrugged and gave a chortle. "You're about to be given a hundred vorns of hard labor for these royal shits you're defending, you know that, right?"

Orion's optic darted away but he nodded. "Yes, that's likely what's going to happen."

Jazz leaned back against the wall. "Yeah, sorry kid, you don't deserve that fate. Neither of us do really. But at least you can entertain me by telling me about the beating you gave Lucox and his bros."

Orion shrugged. "As I said, it was outside a public house in downtown Iacon. He and four of his friends were dragging out two small robots, clearly intent on beating them. I intervened, Lucox walked over to me and explained who he was with the expectation that I would leave and allow him to do whatever he was planning on doing. I didn't, we discussed the situation for a bit before I informed him that he and his friends were under arrest, he took a swing, and, well, it all devolved from there."

Jazz grumbled. "Look buddy, we're going to be down here for at least several hours, probably much, much longer, so the glossing over of the good parts is very annoying."

"I'm not proud of the violence I was forced to employ." Orion explained.

"Yeah, maybe, but you're slagging brilliant at it if I remember correctly, and Lucox Honorum is more than deserving of whatever you did to him, so spill." Jazz insisted.

"I'm sorry for your continued boredom, but I will not be describing the violence used to apprehend suspects." Orion replied.

"Fine, whatever." Jazz grumbled. "Were the two little bots at least appreciative of what you did. You may have been ignorant as to what you bought for yourself, but they must have known you just sacrificed any hope of a normal life to keep them from a temporary hurtin'."

"Yes, they seemed very appreciative." Orion replied. "Though the yellow one disappeared right after the aggressors were subdued. He yelled thanks, then disappeared."

Jazz chuckled. "Probably had an outstanding warrant."

Orion shrugged. "I considered that, but I ran a scan on the name his friend provided me and no, there were no open warrants or anything else that would have aroused police interest."

"What was his name?" Jazz asked.

"Hubcap." Orion replied, noting Jazz's optics getting wider and a slight grin coming over his face at hearing the name. "He's an Autobot, isn't he?"

"What?" Jazz replied less than convincingly. "Never heard of him."

"That could be why he ran." Orion said.

Jazz smiled at Orion. "That's not why he ran."

"So he is an Autobot?" Orion smiled.

"Not saying that." Jazz replied. "But I may have heard his name come up before, something about him being adept at all things media related. And as he seems to be at odds with at least some of the fancy-pants nobles, and as he was rescued by your common-born ass…" the prisoner's grin widened, "he may have ducked out early to make sure the truth had an outlet before the Honorums sealed it up…again."

"Meaning what?" Orion asked.

Jazz leaned forward and peered intently at Orion. "You were justified in doing what you did, right?"

"Yes."

Jazz cocked an eyebrow under his visor. "You were by the book in every way; nothing you did could be used against you if it were displayed in its entirety, right?"

"Everything was by the book." Orion clarified.

"Then maybe, just maybe, this Hubcap, whoever he may be, might just return the favor you did him." Jazz leaned back and smiled.

N'che

The screen was divided into three sections, each displaying a different face. The first was mammalian and nearly covered in fur, the second was reptilian, with green scales and sharp teeth in a room so warm and humid that the steam around him was visible, and the third was gray, with a different type of scales covering the face, these being almost armor-like, and all looking back at him expectantly. The being, also mammalian but hairless and possessing an olive green skin nodded to those on the screen to whom he was communicating. "I understand their concerns, but you must let your friends from Quintessa know that at the very least I must meet with this individual. It depends on what it is he is seeking, but in all likelihood I will refuse him, and I certainly will not suggest or entertain any idea that they be considered for admittance into the Galactic Council."

"Our friends feel we should take this individual into custody, interrogate him and learn all about the world he comes from, and perhaps prepare an invasion." The reptilian being stated. "According to them, these beings hail from their world of origin, that these machines are manufactured beings with artificial intelligence that was advanced enough to let them think of themselves as living beings, and that they rose up and took what was rightfully the Quintesson homeworld."

"I appreciate their position," the four-armed green alien replied, "but your friends have proven themselves to be dishonest on more than a few occasions, which is why they are no longer members of the Council. I will listen to their input, their apparent immortality is undeniably valuable, but ultimately the Council makes its own decisions, and it is not here to facilitate planetary conquests for other species." He then looked to the other two creatures. "Is there anything else?"

"Negative." They replied in unison.

"Excellent. I will forward the results of the meeting to all members of the Council." The dark-green skinned creature replied. "N'che out." He flipped a switch, causing the screen to go black. He then pressed a button on the array in front of him. "Malkas, please send this…Nightbeat in." N'che leaned back in his chair and looked to the door. A moment later a blue and yellow robot walked into the room, standing roughly fifteen feet in height and fairly bulky, it appeared roughly the size of a large Ilxian. "Greetings Nightbeat, I appreciate the distance you have traveled. So why are you here?"

"Thank you for meeting with me, Commander N'che, I have come in search of a Cybertronian vessel that has been lost." Nightbeat replied.

"Your fluency with our language is nearly perfect." N'che courteously commented. "As for this missing ship of yours, I have no knowledge of any Cybertronian craft in our space. And I mean, EVER in our space."

"Languages are easily deciphered and downloaded by and into our brain modules Commander." Nightbeat replied. "As for our ship, it has been missing for over one million years, so given that the majority of your members are mortals, it is unlikely that you would have any remotely current knowledge or data regarding it."

"One million years." N'che replied, giving the robot a look of incredulity. "That predates the origin of a great many intelligent species. It even pre-dates the origins of some of our member species."

"I understand, Commander, but as this ship was the last major undertaking on our part to explore distant parts of the galaxy, whatever data you have on our species may include information on this ship." Nightbeat answered.

N'che rolled his eyes as he tapped into the console he was seated at. "What we have on your species is little to say the least, but I'll look. What is the name of this ship?"

"It's called the Manifest." Nightbeat replied, praying that there would be information regarding it in this alien's database. He studied the alien's eyes closely, and noted the widening of the pupils and lids, knowing that the alien had found something. "Anything Commander?"

"What can you tell me of Alpha Trion?" N'che asked, ignoring Nightbeat's enthusiastic question.

"Alpha…, uh," Nightbeat was caught off guard, but provided what he knew of the Cybertronian in question, "he was an ancient Cybertronian, born into and headed House Trion for awhile. He was also the greatest scientist on our planet at the time, perhaps ever, and was the one to determine the true function of the Matrix." Noting a perplexed expression on the alien's face, he explained. "The Matrix is, well, it's an object of great power and wisdom, but prior to Alpha Trion's discovery its purpose was unknown, it was just a decorative bauble. But he was able to interact with it, something only he and three other individuals in our planet's history have been recorded as being able to do. Upon his interaction with the Matrix he was given the name of Primon, our planet's first Prime."

"So he is an individual of great respect and reverence on your world, correct?" N'che verified.

"Yes, absolutely." Nightbeat replied. "Though he is also called Primon the Abdicator because he stepped down to allow another he felt was better suited to rule as Prime. The Matrix accepted her, but she was killed in battle, so he reclaimed the Matrix and renewed his role as Prime. He engaged the warlord that had killed Prima, the second Prime, and both he and the warlord were killed; or so the legend goes."

"When was this?" N'che asked, still studying the screen in front of him.

"Oh, about nine and a half million years ago." Nightbeat replied, but noticed N'che's head twist away from the screen and stare him in the optics.

"Nine and a half million years ago?" N'che asked. "Are you sure?"

"Well, no, it's all just legends for the most part, but it was probably around then." Nightbeat asked. "I'm not sure what this has to do with the Manifest."

N'che stared silently at Nightbeat for over a minute before finally replying. "Our database has nothing on the Manifest. I'm sorry I can be of no help to you in your quest. Please feel free to refuel your ship, and you may have access to any resources we have for sustenance, but I will be expecting you to be off our station by tomorrow evening."

Nightbeat looked at the alien, was tempted to appeal his dismissal, to beg him to look further into his data archives, but ultimately he knew it would be a futile effort. "Of course Commander, I thank you for your time, efforts and hospitality."

Soundwave

They would need to be more careful if they were ever planning on holding an event near Harmonex. The roar of the crowd was thunderous, and despite the attempts at sound-proofing the structure, those in the vicinity would definitely be aware of something significant going on inside. Perhaps Scrapper and his crew could be employed to improve the sound-proofing and other shortcomings of the arenas used for these events. With the right offer, Soundwave was sure they'd be more than happy to accept the job.

And with the wagers he had placed tonight, he would have more than enough non-traceable credits to hire whoever to do whatever for a very long time to come. The main event was of little interest to Soundwave, a battle between Skyquake and Lugnut; two brutish fliers who the fight fans regarded as 'gatekeepers', fighters not quite good enough to be considered in the elite, but powerful enough to defeat all but those top tier warriors. No, it was the fight before theirs, one between another gatekeeper, Hydrau, and a complete unknown from Tarn named Megatron. The odds had the fan favorite Hydrau as a thirty to one favorite. Soundwave had placed one hundred thousand credits on Megatron and was already planning on what he was going to do with the two million nine hundred thousand credits he would have after returning the borrowed one hundred thousand to the Torrent House accounts. He knew Lightwave would never notice it missing, and while Shockwave likely would notice, he knew he would keep Soundwave's secret out of sheer disinterest if nothing else. The idea that he might lose the one hundred thousand never entered his head; he had seen Megatron in action, the Tarnian would never be defeated.

The crowd roared as a light gray, red and blue jet zipped overhead, transformed and landed in the middle of the arena. The guest announcer had arrived. "Greetings fight fans!" Starscream called out through the voice amplified speakers in his mouth. "Do we have a treat for you tonight! As if the tremendous undercard we've given you wasn't enough, we have three top-tier veteran war machines waiting to do what they do, and one up and comer who looks as though he was made to crush everyone and everything unfortunate enough to be in his path!" Starscream smiled at the uproarious crowd and waited for them to quiet down just a little bit. "Let me introduce you to him now. Hailing from Tarn, fighting out of Kaon, a physical specimen looking to beat a path to Grimlock himself, I give you…Megatron!"

The boos from the crowd made a low rumble that caused a light vibration in the floor. If Soundwave had a mouth, he'd have smiled at the reaction. Perhaps it would push the odds further away from Megatron and give Soundwave an even bigger pay-out. The gladiator in question stepped out onto the floor and looked up at the booing crowd, giving them a genuine smile before graciously nodding his thanks to Starscream for the introduction. Starscream nodded graciously back before going on to introduce Megatron's opponent. "You all know who he'll be facing! The pride of the Hydrax Plateau, the warrior who takes out entire teams, the gladiator always willing to make it a mortality bout, I give you...HYDRAU!"

The crowd exploded, all chanting the gladiator's name in a rhythmic thunder. "HYDRAU! HYDRAU! HYDRAU!"

Hydrau came running into the pit, a huge grin on his face and his own name plastered on the back of both of his shoulders. He trotted up to Starscream and pointed to his own throat, which caused Starscream to smile and nod, making some manual adjustment to his own throat while Hydrau did similar movents. A moment later Hydrau's amplified voice was heard by all. "You all paid to see some beatings, but I'm more than happy to give you a killing for free!" The crowd roared at Hydrau's offer, to which he smiled and raised both hands seemingly to embrace them all. It was an offer he had made prior to every fight with one exception. It was almost always turned down, even the most confident of fighters know that they can have a down night, and Hydrau was powerful enough to capitalize on it and kill them. Of those few that accepted, Hydrau either won and executed his opponent, battered his opponent to the point where even though they won, they didn't have the strength left to end his life, or his opponents recognized the value of rematches and chose to let him live. The only time Hydrau didn't make the offer was when he faced off against Grimlock, and it was fortunate that he didn't. Grimlock may not have been allowed to kill him, but he came as close as he possibly could. It took Hydrau over a year before he was able to fight again. But Hydrau had made a full recovery, and was still as eager to offer every non-Grimlock gladiator a chance at killing him or death as he had ever been. He looked over at Megatron and waved for the crowd to be silent. They complied and Hydrau politely addressed his opponent. "Hello Megatron of Tarn, how would you like an opportunity to become a legend in your very first match?"

The expectation was that Megatron would decline, keeping it a standard knock-out/submission match, and a new line of gambling indicated as much. The line was fifty to one in favor of him declining. Soundwave stretched out his perception to the warrior in question and politely made his mental presence known. 'Greetings Megatron'.

'Hello Soundwave'. Megatron replied mentally. 'I suppose you're wondering whether I'll be accepting or not.'

'Affirmative.'

'Place your bet on a fatality. Which is unfortunate, I've enjoyed footage of Hydrau's battles, it'll be a shame when he's gone.'

Soundwave accessed the terminal at his seat and put another twenty thousand on the line. Megatron looked up at him and smiled before tapping his neck to activate the amplification settings. "Hydrau, it is an honor to face you for my first bout. You are a legend, and I have studied a great deal of your footage. You are an inspiration to so many young fighters…not me, but there are so many that look up to you. It truly is a shame that I will be killing you tonight."

The crowd went crazy, the cheering, the yelling, the sheer chaos was almost more than Soundwave's enhanced senses could endure, but he did endure it and watched as the surprised Hydrau gave Megatron a glare followed by a malevolent smile, and Starscream roared with laughter and delight before raising his hands to address the audience. "I'm taking that as an acceptance!" The two fighters marched over to their designated starting circles and waited for Starscream to engage his foot thrusters and hover into the sky. "Megatron of Tarn, are you ready for this fatality bout?"

"Yes."

Starscream then turned to the other fighter. "Hydrau of the Hydrax Plateau, are you ready for this fatality bout?"

"Hydrau is always ready!" The fan favorite bellowed.

"Then fight!" Starscream sang out before flying out into his special box in the stands.

Hydrau charged the young newcomer and slammed him with a right cross, followed immediately by a left and then a snap kick that sent Megatron stumbling back. The three strikes garnered roars of approval from the crowd, but only got a broad grin out of Megatron. Hydrau charged again, throwing a wild flurry of punches, all of which Megatron blocked or parried with ease, eventually growing tired of demonstrating his defensive capabilities, Megatron grabbed one of Hydrau's arms and flung him back. The newcomer waited for Hydrau to get back to his feet, and then the two marched at one another. Megatron's right fist shot out like a blur, slamming heavily into Hydrau's face and sending him flying back and to the ground.

"My apologies Hydrau, I have no desire to separate you from any of your senses just yet." Megatron taunted to the downed warrior. "Please, take your time, make sure you're back to one hundred percent before getting up and re-engaging me."

"Eat mammalian shit, Tarnian scum!" Hydrau roared as he got back to his feet and charged Megatron. Megatron dodged his strikes again, simply pushing him back as he got too close, and overall just played with the veteran gladiator. "What's the matter coward, afraid to trade blows with me?" Hydrau yelled at the chrome newcomer.

Megatron smiled. "If that's what you want." He stepped forward, arms at his side. "You first." With that Hydrau swung heavily with a right roundhouse, connecting perfectly with Megatron's jaw. Megatron turned his head back forward, revealing a broad smile. "My turn." Megatron followed suit, landing a thunderous right round house that tore the left side of Hydrau's jaw from its housing and sending Hydrau to the ground.

The crowd was silenced by the clear display of superiority on the part of this unknown. Megatron looked down at Hydrau. "Your turn."

Hydrau looked up at Megatron, terror in his optics. "Nnnnaaauu" he tried to say through his damaged mouth. "Ercy. Ercy, ease."

"Mercy?" Megatron questioned mockingly. "But it was you that pushed for this to be a fatality match, was it not?"

"Orry. Ease, ercy."

Megatron looked down. "I bear you no ill will, Hydrau, I truly do not, but first impressions mean so much, so I'm afraid I must make this memorable."

"Rowd. Rowd. Ak da rowd." Hydrau pleaded.

Megatron looked down at the warrior. "Two things. One, we both know they want to see one of us die. Two, it is my will that the masses will bend to serve, not the other way around. Now get up, you aren't beaten yet!"

Megatron took a step back to allow Hydrau an opportunity to get to his feat. The veteran warrior climbed back up and got his bearings, raising his hands to prepare for further battle with the young powerhouse. Hydrau charged one last time at Megatron, one final desperate attempt to regain control of the fight. A straight left jab stopped him with enough force that he was falling back again, but an unstoppable over-hand right to Hydrau's stomach folded him up, and a lightning quick left roundhouse caught his right side and sent his entire frame flying forty yards across the arena floor. Hydrau writhed in pain, but managed to push himself up to his feet before Megatron's leisurely pace brought them back together. Hydrau swung desperately with his left hand, but the strike was dismissively pushed away and Megatron's right fist came down from overhead and tore the already heavily damaged jaw completely away save for a lone strap of metal on the right side of Hydrau's face that kept it connected.

Hydrau whimpered lightly as Megatron delivered a left uppercut to his midsection that sent him flying up into the air and crashing back down. Megatron walked leisurely over to the downed opponent and stared down at him. "Pick which one gets pulled out; spark or brain module."

"Ooooo, eeee, oooo!"

"Hmmm, well, as you refused to pick, I guess I'll have to pull both out." Megatron dropped to his knees, bringing both fists down in a pair of hammer strikes, one to the forehead, the other to the center of his chest. He then reached back up and drove his fingers back down into those same areas, gripping and tearing through until a smile came over his face. He then wrenched his hands out of Hydrau's body, each clutching a vital organ and displaying it to the suddenly ravenous crowd. Megatron stood and marched around, holding the faded spark and brain module for all to see before tossing them both away and re-engaging his voice amplification settings. "Is there anyone else?" Megatron then looked to two of the preparation areas on either side of the arena where Lugnut and Skyquake were warming up. "Perhaps any-two else?"

Lugnut and Skyquake looked to one another and shrugged. Skyquake looked back at Megatron. "Fine, two on one, but knock-out/submission, OK? No fatality."

Megatron smiled. "Fine. Come out and fight!" The crowd went crazy.

A-Three

They had left immediately upon hearing of what had happened and what was likely in store, which was good as Sentinel Prime seemed to have severely fast-tracked this. They were aware of the charges, they had read the reports filed by both Sentinel Prime and his kinsman Lucox Honorum, and they knew full well that the word 'lies' wasn't enough to describe what had been written of young Orion. The only thing that had delayed them in the least was dealing with Roller's refusal to remain at Tyger Pax. The young robot demanded that he be brought, forgetting his place in the House, and frankly, he could not of cared less. Even Arlon would not hold the momentary disrespect and insistence against the youth; his best friend was on trial, of course he would fight anyone to be there for him, but eventually they had made it clear to him that his presence would be more a detriment to Orion's cause than an asset. And the fact that A-Three was leaving the Torus Heights for Cybertropolis, something that was unheard of, let Roller know that they were pulling out all the stops on Orion's behalf.

He, Arlon and Torenia had just arrived at the Senate and were marching their way in. Emir's had seats behind the Co-Consuls, but Torenia and A-Three would have to sit up in the viewing section. There was no time for a separate section for nobility to be designated. But Arlon was the key person in the fight to help Orion, so they bid him good luck and headed up to the viewing section. It took nearly half an hour, but they finally found available seats, and they could see Arlon in his place behind the two highest ranking senators. "He has to get him out of this!" Torenia muttered insistently, the fear plain in her voice.

"He will." A-Three tried to assure her.

"All rise!" The Senate Sergeant at Arms announced, and all present did as instructed. A moment later Sentinel Prime marched in and stood in the center of the forum.

"Thank you all for coming." Sentinel Prime addressed the senators. "I realize that this is outside of our due process, but I need for this to be dealt with quickly, and as it involves my House, it must be evaluated by the highest authority as to avoid any question of my influence. I recognize that the speed with which this is being tried has put the defendant at a slight disadvantage, but to offset that I have assigned not just a state-appointed advocate to fight for him, but will allow his defense to be performed by a senator." Prime looked over the senators and smiled as his optics glided over Senator Proteus. "Does anyone volunteer to represent the defendant?"

A low murmur went out, and after a moment Senator Proteus stood. "I will represent the defendant."

Sentinel Prime smiled and was about to accept when another voice called out.

"I am also willing to represent the accused." Senator Xaaron announced as he too stood up.

Sentinel Prime stared at Xaaron with barely concealed anger for several moments before responding. "I thank you for your offer, Senator, but I think Senator Proteus…"

"The defendant should have the right to choose his advocate for himself." Arlon called out.

"You are out of order, Emir Pax!" Prime snapped at the bestial robot.

"Perhaps, and I will submit to the punishment for that," Arlon replied, "but I am right none the less."

Sentinel Prime glared at Arlon, who met his gaze unflinchingly. Realizing he had no justification for refusing Orion's right to choose, Sentinel relented. "Fine, the accused can pick his advocate! Bring him out to make his choice and face the charges!" Orion was led out in shackles and placed in the center of the forum, several steps from Sentinel Prime. Prime looked at the accused. "Choose your representative."

Orion looked at the two standing senators offering their assistance to him, and as his gaze passed between them he caught sight of Torenia and A-Three in the crowd. He saw A-Three nod toward Xaaron and he turned back to Sentinel Prime. "I choose Senator Xaaron."

Sentinel Prime's face twitched slightly in anger, but he nodded. "So be it. Senator Xaaron, come down here and take your place next to the accused." A few moments later Xaaron was standing next to Orion. "Orion of I…"

"Your Grace, I have an important matter that must be addressed prior to initiating these proceedings." Arlon Pax called out.

Sentinel Prime whirled around and glared at the mechanical beast. "Another interruption, Lord Pax?"

"It is pertinent, your Grace." Arlon assured him.

"It had better be!" Prime grumbled and waved for him to proceed.

"Thank you Sentinel Prime." Arlon said. "I am uploading documents related to Orion and his social status." The senators and Sentinel Prime accessed their screens and looked at the file being uploaded. "As you can see, I have drawn up the legal paperwork to have Orion of Polarus adopted into House Pax. Please note that the approval has been given by every member of House Pax."

"I object!" Sentinel Prime roared. "This is clearly an attempt to mitigate the trouble this boy is in!"

"Look at the date the documents were drawn up, your Grace." Arlon replied immediately. "They were created the day he left for Iacon, long before any of this trouble came about."

"Do you expect me to believe that?" Sentinel Prime roared, but at hearing the absolute silence, realized that he may have made a mistake.

"I apologize for not having a response at the ready," Arlon calmly replied after a long pause, "this is the first time anyone has ever called my word into question."

A low rumble went out through the crowd as well as the senators, and Sentinel Prime looked up at them all and realized the he should not push in this direction any further. "Of course, Emir Pax, I was caught up in my role as prosecutor, it's customary to call everything into question. I rescind my doubts as to when these documents were drawn up." The rumble of the crowd grew louder. "But I still must contest your claim to this youth."

"On what grounds, your Grace?" Arlon asked.

"On the grounds that this Orion is not from Polarus. Nor is he from Burthov or any roads in that vicinity." Prime smiled at Arlon. "It took some looking, but Orion's frame came into existence on the island of Avalonius, within the borders of Iacon. I can show you my evidence if you'd like." Sentinel Prime followed Arlon's optics as they darted up into the crowd. The Cybertronian leader turned and saw Torenia Pax, a look of despair and sorrow on her face before she covered it with her hands.

"No your Grace," Arlon replied sadly as he turned away from Torenia and looked to the floor, "I will not need to see your evidence."

"I might like to see it." Senator Xaaron called out. "I'm sorry, but from what I understand, Insula Avalonius is barren of life. Well, let me amend that, it's filled with life, but it's barren of spark-based life. In our historical record, no spark has ever emerged from that island."

"I am aware of Avalonius's traits and history, and that this is beyond rare, but the data confirms that this is Orion's place of origin, and that is falls within Iacon's bord…" Sentinel Prime's optics grew wide, and he stared disbelievingly at the prisoner standing quietly in the center of the Senate Forum.

"Your Grace, are you alright?" Orion asked, noting the Prime's apparent disorientation.

Prime continued staring at him a moment longer before getting his bearings and snapping at the youth. "I'm fine, you need only worry about yourself!"

Orion nodded and then looked to the Co-Consuls, prompting everyone else to look to the Senate leaders as well. The primary Consul, Augustus Decimus pondered the situation for a few moments before delivering an answer. "The law is quite clear in this regard. As there is no contesting where the individual originates from, the House holding jurisdiction over the individual determines his fate until he reaches the age of self determination, at which time, provided he is free of debt, he will be free to do and travel as he wish or accept an invitation into any noble or royal House that provides him one."

"So until he reaches the age of self-determination, he cannot be admitted to a noble or royal House, is that correct?" Sentinel Prime said almost gleefully.

"He may enter the House which holds jurisdiction over him, otherwise, no." The Primary Co-Consul replied. "Do you with to offer him admittance to House Honorum, your Grace?"

"Hell no." Sentinel Prime replied with a smile. He then turned and faced the crowd. "With that out of the way, I would like to bring charges against this commoner."

A-Three watched sadly as Arlon could do nothing more to prevent this farce of a trial from taking place, but then watched as an athletically built, mid-sized black robot with a blue helmet ran into the forum and right up to Prowl. He whispered something to Prowl, who looked at him disbelievingly. The black robot handed him a data pad and Prowl scrutinized it. He saw the Security Chief mouth a profanity before walking into the center of the forum and approach Sentinel Prime. The already silent crowd seemed to hush even further as Prowl unexpectedly walked up to the Prime and whispered something to him, handing him the data pad as he did so.

A look of disbelief and rage slowly came over Sentinel Prime's face. Several moments passed, and during this time the data pad in his grip shattered. Prowl continued looking up at him, and finally Prime hesitantly met his gaze. Still looking down at Prowl, Prime made an announcement to the forum. "New evidence has been brought to light. The State will be withdrawing the charges against Orion of Iacon for now." He turned and stormed out of the forum, Prowl following after him.

Senator Xaaron was stunned for a moment before turning to Orion. "I think you're free to go." He nodded to a guard who marched over and disengaged the shackles from Orion's wrists.

Orion gave the senator a surprised smile. "Thank you Senator, I appreciate you stepping forward to help me."

"I didn't do anything, Orion Pax." Senator Xaaron chuckled.

"Huh, no, I'm not…"

"Yes you are!" Arlon approached them. "You may not be a noble until you reach the age of self determination fourteen and a half years from now, but you may take any name you wish, including that of a noble or royal house provided they give their permission." The bestial robot peered deeply into Orion's optics. "And I think I've made it clear that we want you to have our name. We want you to be a part of our house. In time, I see you as the Emir of the Torus Heights."

"In time, he may be more than that." A-Three said as he and Torenia approached them, Torenia shooting out and wrapping Orion in a tight embrace.

Arlon looked to A-Three. "Meaning?"

A-Three thought quietly for a moment before shaking his head. "Nothing. Never mind."

Mindwipe

"I hate cops." The dark, winged robot noted to his two comrades in the subterranean chamber they were in, all of them watching a large screen split into two scenes, one showing the security footage of a confrontation between a constable-in-training named Orion and five individuals outside a bar, the other showing the recently aborted trial of Orion in the Senate Forum. "But as much as I hate them, I hate high-borns even more. Northern high-borns especially." He chuckled. "Nice to see ol' Sentinel eating a rod."

"How the hell did this footage get out?" Another darkly colored robot asked him.

"Not sure, Bugly." The winged robot replied.

"My guess is the Autobots." The third member replied, a large robot with several slender bestial limbs protruding from his back. "They seem to hate high-borns as much as you do, Mindwipe."

"Nobody hates high-borns as much as I do, Shokaract." Mindwipe replied casually, but was startled as a buzz came from his wrist. He looked at the scrolling display on his wrist and then to his comrades. "The Torus Heights…polar region."

The other two excitedly sat upright and stared at him eagerly. Shokaract finally nodded his horrific looking head. "It's them. Answer it."

Mindwipe nodded and opened the channel. "Hello."

"Pleasant greetings, is this Mindwipe?" The weathered voice came through.

"It is. To whom am I speaking?" The winged robot replied.

"I am Kup, Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Tartarun Gates." The voice replied. "I'm contacting you regarding your correspondence in which you indicated an interest in joining our order."

"Yes, I am very interested, Lord Commander." Mindwipe replied eagerly, smiling at his comrades.

"That's good to hear." Kup replied. "Tell me what you know of the order."

"Well, fifteen million years ago the planet was being overrun by an army of sparkeaters. The Knights of Cybertron arose from each of the emirates and raised the armies of the living to repel the sparkeaters north, to our planet's very pole, where an immeasurably deep pit existed. The Knights and their army pushed the remaining sparkeaters into the pit, sealed it numerous times and stationed the legendary guardian Omega Supreme there to stand eternally vigil. The Wardens were established a short time after that to aid the Guardian and protect the realms of the living from the horrors trapped within the pit." Mindwipe replied.

"That's a pretty good history lesson, and a better answer than I get from most prospective recruits." Kup replied. "But I want to make sure you recognized the commitment you will need to make. Each tour you commit to…"

"Lasts for an entire vorn, yes, I know." Mindwipe replied eagerly. "And upon initiation of that tour, I am to close all non-official contact and abandon all business or personal matters for the duration of my time as Warden."

"Correct." Kup answered. "It's a much larger commitment than that statement makes it sound. I just want to make sure you understand what you'd be getting yourself into."

"I understand, Lord Commander, and I still wish to serve and protect the land of the living from the horrors that dwell below." Mindwipe replied. "I am ready to take my place at your side."

"Alright then," Kup responded, a bit of surprise in his voice, "I will make ready your arrival. I look forward to meeting you, Mindwipe."

"I look forward to it as well, Lord Commander." Mindwipe grinned, and waited for the sound of Kup severing the connection before turning off his communicator. He then looked up at his comrades. "It is beginning, my brothers."

"Excellent!" Bugly announced. "We have been waiting for too long."

"Do they still call out to you, brother?" Shokaract asked.

Mindwipe nodded. "Yes, I hear their cries for freedom louder now than ever, as well as their vows to make us like them. To give us the power we crave; that we deserve."

"The power to consume the life of our enemies…" Bugly mused.

"Of our friends." Shokaract added.

"Of all living beings." Mindwipe continued. "We shall consume them all, we will rule over the non-living wasteland, and then spread our chaos throughout the galaxy.

Shokaract began chuckling. "It has finally begun."

Nightbeat

The Vikor was a vast, powerful warship. The Galactic Council referred to it as a peace-keeping craft, and it certainly went a long way toward keeping the peace, but the weapons at its disposal made it clear that it was fully capable of waging war like few other constructs in the galaxy. And it was just one of the 'peace-keeping' tools at the disposal of the Galactic Council. They were supremely powerful, they had little in the way of threats or opposition, and that was likely the main reason Nightbeat had such an easy time bypassing their security measures and gaining access to the Vikor. He slipped through the opened door, jacked into the control panel on the inside of the room to verify that his blocks to the security sensors were still in place, and then snuck over to the main computer terminal.

He jacked in and began sorting through the data. It was the most efficient filing system that he had ever come across, but the virtually limitless amount of data could make this take much longer than the amount of time he had at his disposal. But in all likelihood he would not be getting another chance at this, so he had to make it work. He sorted through different repositories of data, finding nothing before deciding that retracing N'che's steps might be a good start. Sifting through the recent files, he came across what his host had accessed earlier. A report, or rather, a warning from someone calling himself Alpha Trion of Cybertron. He then understood N'che's surprise at Alpha Trion's reported death occurring nine and a half million years before; this report was roughly one million years old. It was nearly contemporaneous with the launch and disappearance of The Manifest, and Nightbeat, being a detective, couldn't accept that this was a coincidence.

There were security blocks keeping him from the contents of the report, but it took him less than an hour to work his way through them. There were anti-duplication measures in place, and he was running short of time, so he would have to read it and hope he made it out to tell the tale. A moment later it popped up.

'Esteemed members of the Galactic Council,

I am Alpha Trion of Cybertron, a world that you have had virtually no contact with, but that you are very much aware of. I am contacting you to provide you with fair warning concerning a ship that launched from our world recently. The launch was successful, but there was an issue in the wormhole generation technology that landed the ship within the Benzuli Expanse, an anomaly that I am sure you are familiar with. While the placement of the ship within the expanse was such that it is intact, do not attempt a rescue effort. In all likelihood it would be futile, and were you to be successful, you might regret the attempt. The stated mission was one of exploration and diplomacy; I have compelling reason to believe that the ship's captain, Guardian Prime, had another agenda. Leave the craft where it lies, no good can come of devoting any of your attention to it.'

There it was. A contemporaneous document that all but confirmed Nightbeat's long held belief that the Manifest's mission had been sabotaged. Of course, he never would have guessed that someone claiming to be the long dead first Prime would claim responsibility, or that he would ward off scrutiny of other worldly organizations. But why would he sabotage the craft? Could his assertion that Guardian Prime was interested in more than just exploration be accurate, and if so, would that even justify such an act of sabotage and…Primicide? Only, the document claimed that the ship was intact within the Expanse, that while ill-advised, a rescue mission was possible. Or rather, might have been possible a million years ago. But if he had the resources to direct the ship into the Benzuli Expanse, then he would have had the resources to just have the ship blow up, killing them all immediately as opposed to a slow starvation.

The Matrix. Of course, Nightbeat thought as he quietly made his way out of the room. Regardless of whether it was the real Alpha Trion or not, there were many reasons why someone would not want the Matrix obliterated. Which could also play a role into why he would throw the Galactic Council off the path of any sort of investigation or rescue mission. All they would need to do is wait for those on board to expire, and then...somehow get aboard the ship and retrieve the Matrix.

Nightbeat cut through the hallways, avoiding the occasional sentry and finally made his way back to his ship, slipped inside and relaxed. "Hello Prime," Nightbeat quietly practiced what he was going to say to his leader, "the good news is that I found the Manifest. The bad news is that as of a million years ago it was trapped within a completely inaccessible and thus far unquantifiable phenomenon in deep within the galaxy and even were the crew still alive, they and the ship are completely inaccessible; including the Matrix, which you want more than your kinsman because you're a greedy slag who wants nothing more than to completely cement your position as Prime by sticking that trinket in your chest. Oh, and to top it all off, they were all murdered by the first Prime…eight and a half million years after he died." Nightbeat slunk into the seat in his cockpit and prepared to power down for a few hours. "Yeah, really looking forward to reporting this. Prime'll be thrilled."

Sentinel Prime

"Can we discredit the footage?" Prime snapped as he and Prowl marched down the hall toward his quarters, or at least his quarters while he was in Cybertropolis.

"I don't believe so sir." Prowl replied. "We can certainly try, but by this point the majority of the population is already convinced that the footage is authentic."

"I don't care about the slagging rabble!" Prime growled.

"Well, I don't see it working with the nobility either, Prime." Prowl explained. "You see, most of them know Lucox, and well," Prowl hesitated slightly, not out of fear, just trying to phrase it correctly, but then giving up in that attempt, "let's just say everything in that footage screams Lucox."

"Careful, Prowl." Sentinel grumbled ominously. The statement prompted Prowl to stop dead in his tracks. Sentinel stopped and stared back at him. "What are you doing?"

"Why did you select me?" Prowl asked, a hint of venom in his voice. Sentinel Prime considered the question for a moment and then turned his face as he realized where Prowl was going. "You picked me because I will give it to you straight. I will always give you the honest truth. I'll try to be respectful and all that, but sometimes, like in this situation with Lucox, there's just no way to completely polish a turd." The smaller robot continued looking up at his leader, but his tone softened. "Frankly sir, according to the law, Orion did everything correctly. He was justified in every way, and Lucox, well, he should be sitting in a cell right now."

Sentinel turned back and glared at Prowl. "I know how Lucox is, damnit. And you're right, there's no getting the polishing cream back in the tube with that footage, but don't ever, EVER defend that upstart little shit Orion. Do you understand?"

"Clearly sir." Prowl replied.

Prime looked down at the ground in frustration. "How does he even exist?"

Prowl pulled out a data pad and activated it, swiping through data until he got to the medical report. "Not sure sir, but they've collected samples from the island, they've compared them thoroughly against his scans, and yeah, he appears to be made of the dense metal native to Avalonius."

"But how?" Sentinel growled. "It can't sustain a spark."

"They're theorizing that enough power was generated by his spark to create his frame." Prowl looked puzzled until he scrolled to the next page. "Ah, ignis superius, though even that doesn't fully explain it."

"Igna, what?" Prime asked.

"Green spark." Prowl replied, his focus still on the report.

"Of slagging course!" Prime bellowed and marched back toward his chambers, barking back at Prowl as he went. "Go find out how that footage got out of Iacon!"

"Yes sir." Prowl replied, turning and heading back down the hall.

Sentinel Prime finally reached his door, and turned into his room as it slid open for him. "Open a secure line and wipe record of transmission once the conversation has been ended."

"Yes Prime." The feminine automated voice replied. "Contact code?"

"Lockdown, code ROTF-09." Prime replied as he sat down and looked out the window in his dimly lit quarters.

"Cancel that call." A voice from the corner ordered.

"Yes Prime." The automated voice replied and did as instructed.

Sentinel Prime lurched up to his feet and turned to face the individual in the shadows. "Who the hell are you? Do you know what I'll do to you?" The form stepped out of the shadow so that Sentinel Prime could look upon his face. "I know you, you were sitting next to Torenia Pax in the forum today! Oh, if the Pax's want a war…"

"The Pax's have no idea I'm here." A-Three interrupted.

"How did you get in here?" Prime snarled, standing menacingly in an attempt to intimidate the smaller robot.

"I helped design this room." A-Three replied, apparently oblivious to the implied threat coming from the Prime. He walked across the room and peered out the window over Cybertropolis. "This entire building actually. Truth be told, much of this city was built per my designs."

"I see." Sentinel replied slowly. "A lunatic has somehow managed to get into my room. Great."

"Come now, Sentinel Honorum, would a lunatic really be able to bypass all of the security that you've put in place here and wait for you in your own room?" A-Three posed.

"You can enlighten us on our security failings from a cell." Prime replied. "I genuinely am looking forward to hearing that, I assure you."

"Well, before we get to that point, perhaps I should let you know why I'm visiting you." A-Three countered as he took a seat adjacent to the large chair that was Sentinel's, and Zeta's before him, and Guardian's before him. "It wasn't just to interrupt your call to your assassin."

"Lockdown is a bounty hunter!" A defensive Sentinel snapped.

"Lockdown is whatever he's paid to be." A-Three countered calmly. "And as Orion Pax is not wanted on any charges, I can only assume you were employing Lockdown to have him killed."

"Believe it or not, you crazy old fool, Orion, and it's just Orion, is barely a speck on the mountain of things I have to deal with." Prime snarled.

"It's Orion Pax." A-Three replied. "He may not be able to accept the rights and entitlements that go with the name, but he can, and has, accepted the name itself. And I know you have a great many other things to concern yourself with, but you are most definitely focused on Orion. And it has little if anything to do with the perceived slight against your house anymore. No, you made the same connection regarding the boy that I did."

Sentinel's optics widened, but he retained an otherwise surprise-free face. "And what connection is that?"

A-Three studied Sentinel's optics for several moments. "I didn't think he told you. After all, you were so young when he went missing, and even if he told you, I would have doubted that you would remember. But at seeing the panic, the absolute terror at the realization that suddenly came over you in the forum a few hours ago, I knew. Gallus told you what I told him, and you believed that the reasons he and I felt the prophecy fit him applied every bit as much to you. And why not? It seemed reasonable, you emerged from the same pit he did, one that was deep within Iacon, barren at the time of the prophecy, you enjoy hunting even more than he did, you are a great warrior, and your life-long dedication to law enforcement could be interpreted as a quest for peace. So I can see why you felt you were the Prime who was promised. And I saw the devastation that went through you as you realized that another better fit the prophecy. That another fit," A-Three looked up at the ceiling and a euphoric smile spread across his face, "perfectly."

"I have no idea of what you're talking about." Sentinel growled unconvincingly.

"Really?" A-Three asked, a smirk on his face. "Please, I am not recording this conversation, and no other living soul has any knowledge of this prophecy. Let us drop the charade and speak honestly."

"Fine," Sentinel grumbled as he took his seat, his throne, "let's start with who you are."

A-Three nodded. "That is fair. I have gone by many names in the more than twelve million years I have been alive. The name I have gone by for the last million years is A-three, the name I gave Gallus when we met nearly eight million years ago was Atrium of Crystal City. For the roughly one and a half million years prior to that I bounced through names quite frequently in an attempt to hide who I was. You see, the world believed I had been killed in a horrific battle with Deathsaurus, my second with that monster, and I let them. I had long been weary of leadership, my connection to the Matrix was a tremendous burden that I rejected once before and only accepted again when it was absolutely necessary. So, when I awoke, an unidentifiable husk of a frame in a battlefield hospital, and heard that my forces recovered the Matrix from Deathsaurus's palace, and that Nova Onyx had shown an affinity for it, I quietly rejoiced and set out to live a life of anonymity. It was during my life as Atrium that events once again forced me into action; another southern warlord, this one from Polyhex, had once again risen and killed the Prime, taking the Matrix back to his stronghold. I was on the cusp of revealing myself and reclaiming leadership again when I met Gallus Honorum, and knew he was worthy. I knew that he was not only worthy, but to the very core of my spark I believed him to be the Prime who was promised, the Prime the prophecy foretold. It was he who would light our darkest hour."

A sadness seemed to come over A-Three as Sentinel Prime just stared at him, his face a mixture of awe and skepticism, but beckoning the old robot to continue the tale. "And he did. Our forces battled those of Galvatron for…well, for a very long time. Millions were killed, but we finally turned the tide, gained the offensive, and Gallus led our forces deep into Polyhex, took Galvatron's fortress at Kolkular where he was keeping the Matrix, still slick with Prime Nova's fluids, and all my hopes seemed to be realized as Gallus took the Matrix, and it transformed him, enhanced him, turned him into Guardian Prime." A-Three looked up at Sentinel Prime and smiled sadly. "And he was everything I hoped he would be, winning battles, negotiating a just and lasting peace for the entire planet, making enemies friends and creating a government that, at least in theory, would represent all. But you know all that. What you asked was who I am. Well, the name I was born with was Alpha Trion, as I connected with the Matrix that name changed to Primon. Hopefully that answers the question that you asked."

"It is a fantastic tale, old one, but I do not believe it." Sentinel replied with a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

A-Three smiled and looked up toward the ceiling. "Increase illumination settings."

"Yes Prime." The feminine automated voice replied, and the dim room became brighter.

"You are clearly familiar with this room and adept at manipulating the settings, but that doesn't make you Primon!" Sentinel growled as he leaned forward a bit.

"Fine, I have answered your question fully and honestly, I cannot force you to believe me." A-Three replied, leaning forward a bit as well. "But know there are methods out there that can confirm my identity, and should anything happen to Orion Pax, I will reveal myself to the world and challenge your position as Prime."

Sentinel laughed, though the laugh was clearly forced and devoid of amusement. "Some fool declaring himself to be Primon the Abdicator, revealing himself to be alive after nine and a half million years?" Prime's face took a stern look and he leaned back. "Even if you were who you claim, why would they want some coward renowned for avoiding the responsibility of leadership."

A-Three smiled. "I was chosen by the Matrix, you never were."

Sentinel Prime's face displayed even more agitation, but another forced smile took shape. "That may change soon enough."

The first Prime stared at the current leader, at a loss for words for the first time in the conversation. He finally found his voice. "What do you mean by that?"

"I will find the Manifest." Sentinel growled quietly. "I will intern Gallus with the highest honors, I will claim the Matrix, and neither you nor that upstart island-born commoner will every lay optics on it."

A-Three leaned back and shrugged. "I wish you luck in your quest, so long as you are no threat to Orion or any other member of House Pax. If you are, well, the planet will have to decide between following a Prime chosen by the Matrix or one chosen by the Senate. And even if you were to be holding the Matrix, it would be clear that you possessed no affinity for it."

Sentinel Prime glared at his uninvited guest. "What makes you so sure? Am I not all that Gallus was?"

"No." A-Three replied, his face devoid of expression. "Not even close. And Gallus, even at his most noble and pure, was no Orion Pax."

"Enough!" Sentinel Prime lurched to his feet and roared. "I am graciously tolerating your referring to him as a Pax, even though he's just a low-born slab of ore, but to insinuate that he's worthy to be a Prime is enough to make be beat you senseless. To claim he's greater than Gallus Honorum? I should pull your ancient head off and shove it up your ancient ass!" A smile came over his face as he glared down at the seated Primon the Abdicator. "In fact, there are many reasons why I should do that, and nothing that can prevent me from doing it."

A-Three sighed and pulled a small disk from a compartment on his wrist. "I was hoping this wouldn't be necessary, but I knew that it would be." With that A-Three flicked the disk onto Sentinel Prime's broad chest. Sentinel Prime looked down at it just as it emitted a buzz and his body went limp, forcing him to collapse heavily to the floor. "I was genuinely expecting you to rise up and conduct yourself as a Prime, not as a spoiled entitled shit, but apparently my expectations were too high." A-Three stood up and walked to stand over Sentinel Prime. "Just so we're clear, as long as you refrain from acting against Orion or any other member of House Pax, I will remain in the shadows, making no claim to the title of Prime. If you do act against them I will see to it that all you hold dear is stripped from you, and that your legacy will be one of shame and corruption. And, should I deem it necessary, I will kill you. You wouldn't be the first…" A-Three paused and thought before continuing, "corrupt leader that I have been forced to kill. Choose your actions carefully, and should you prove to be a good and noble leader, you shall never feel friction from me again." The intruder turned and started walking toward the door. "As for your current condition, the device will burn itself out in ten minutes, you'll be back to normal after that." Sentinel Prime tried to struggle, but he was completely immobile, and all he could do was listen to his door open and shut.

Orion Pax

"As of now you remain a Constabulary Trainee and Academy Remote-Cadet in good standing." Prowl said, his face on the view screen that Orion was looking at. "Given the circumstances though, you'll likely be relocated out of Iacon."

"That's good to hear." Orion replied "Both my status and the prospect of being transferred. Where will I be going? Cybertropolis?"

"That hasn't been decided yet." Prowl replied, his face took on a slightly pained expression. "Look Orion, I'm sorry that all this has happened. I can't help but feel partially responsible for this, it was my interest in you that brought you to Iacon in the first place."

"Don't apologize Prowl, you had good intentions." Orion replied.

"Yeah, well, it's over now I guess." Prowl replied. "But Orion, you need to accept the way things are. Perhaps now with your name you might be given more leeway, and when you reach the age of self determination your membership in a royal house will certainly make you less vulnerable than you are now, but the status quo has existed for millions and millions of years, only Omega Supreme is old enough to remember a time without the royal houses, and even the nobility pre-dates him."

"I don't care how old something is or how established certain traditions are, Prowl," Orion replied, "if it's unjust, it must be changed."

Prowl chuckled. "Then unfortunately you'll likely be replaying the events of today repeatedly throughout your life, only you won't have the Autobots there to save your ass. Even if your luck holds up, it'll be an uphill battle to say the least."

Orion nodded. "I understand and accept that."

Prowl smiled and shook his head. "You're a gutsy kid, Pax, but for the foreseeable future I would suggest keeping your head down and letting this blow over."

Orion smiled. "I'll genuinely try to do that, sir, I just hope the situations I find myself in allow me to do so."

"Primus protect us from goofy, idealistic kids." Prowl chuckled. "Good luck Pax, I'll let you know when your assignment comes in."

"Thank you sir."

"Prowl out." The screen went black.

Orion switched off the computer screen and leaned back in his chair, the open door to his room behind him. "You're a lot quieter than you used to be."

A-Three walked into the room, a smile on his face. "I may have upped by stealth game since your time at Tyger Pax, but believe me, I am nothing compared to what I used to be."

Orion swiveled around in his chair, a broad smile on his face. "I'm glad you stopped by. Arlon and Torenia just left about fifteen minutes ago."

"I'll have plenty of time to talk with them on the trip home." A-Three replied in good humor as he found a seat on Orion's dormancy slab. "You always are at a loss for space."

Orion chuckled. "It suits me. I really don't have much in the way of stuff."

A-Three chuckled as well. "I suppose that's true. It's funny though, I was just in a room that's probably better suited for you, stuff or no stuff."

Orion gave a quizzical look, but just shrugged. "I'm fine with here for now. Actually, I might be here for awhile. I'll likely be transferring out of Iacon, and I may wind up here in Cybertropolis full time."

The older robot looked at Orion intently. "You showed tremendous bravery and integrity in Iacon. You knew things were going to be bad if you did the right thing, and you did it anyway."

"Of course," Orion replied with absolute sincerity, "it was the right thing."

A-Three gave a chuckle that did little to hide the pride he felt in the youth. "Such a Pax."

Orion nervously looked down. "I hope I live up to the name."

"You're certainly on the right track." The old robot replied. "Though it's possible that you may have a different name someday."

"What do you mean by that?" The large red and blue robot asked.

A-Three looked intently at the police cadet for several moments before posing a question. "Orion, if you could know something about what your future holds, would you want to know it?"

Orion thought on this for several moments. "Would this knowledge save lives or prevent injury?"

"No." A-Three replied. "Nothing specific enough for you to truly act upon. Just a general prediction on your future greatness, malevolence, a title or titles you may hold, or possibly achievements."

Orion thought quietly for a few more moments. "No. I'd rather not know. Not if it's not something I can take action on to prevent a tragedy."

A-Three nodded. "That's the right answer." He pondered quietly for a moment. "Something that differentiates you from him."

"Sir?"

The older bot smiled. "Nothing."

Orion looked down. "Sir, Lord Arlon knows that I'm fine without being a noble, right?"

"Yes, he knows you'll be fine no matter what social strata you find yourself in. Why?"

"This isn't some sort of charity, is it?" The youth asked earnestly.

The question caused A-Three to laugh loudly. "Charity? Boy, you're humility has got to stop overpowering your sense." He leaned forward and grabbed the youngster's shoulder, and easy task in the small room. "I have more respect for House Pax than for any other House or organization on the planet, including the one from which I originate, their standards could not be too high, they are the ones we should all look to for an example, and Orion, having you there makes them vastly better than they were. Part of me hopes that someday you recognize how truly great you are," the older robot looked away, "and part of me hopes you never do."

Orion nodded and considered that for a bit before looking deeply into A-Three's optics. "I appreciate that sir, and I am beyond proud to take their name. But," he paused, "but I think it would be wrong for me to accept membership to their house. Not out of any sense of humility, and certainly not out of any disrespect to House Pax, but because I feel that any sort of enhanced citizenship based on location of birth to be, well, unjust."

A-Three stared at him for nearly a minute before rising to his feet. "You're definitely him."

"I'm definitely who?" Orion asked, completely bewildered.

A-Three smiled. "Orion Pax." The older bot took a few steps to the door. "You have a birthright, Orion, I just need to retrieve it for you."

"Sir, I have no idea…" a beeping at the small console on the wall drew Orion's attention. "Excuse me sir, this might be important." Orion switched on the screen to see Prowl again. "Hello Prowl, was there something we forgot to cover?"

"No, we didn't forget anything," Prowl replied, a look of frustration on his face, "your orders have come through."

"Wow that was quick." Orion excitedly replied, while A-Three nervously listened off to the side.

"You're being transferred to Rodion." Prowl read matter of factly, his optics avoiding those of Orion.

"Rodion?" Orion questioned. "That's in Polyhex."

"No!" A-Three blurted out and positioned himself before the screen. "Tell your master that this will not stand!"

"Who are…you're the Tyger Pax polyhistor." Prowl stated.

"Sentinel Prime knows very well who I am!" A-Three snapped back. "Tell him that his attempts to get this boy killed will have repercussions!"

"I'll let him know." Prowl replied, both annoyed and filled with guilt. "Prowl out." The screen went black.

A-Three looked down at the seated Orion. "We'll do our best to get you out of that snake pit, but until we do, keep yourself safe."

Orion nodded. "I'll do my best, sir."


	6. Chapter 6

Skullcruncher

It had been nearly three hundred years since he had first come to Rodion from Simfur, and in that time he had lost his Nyonian accent, and the one adopted, while not quite full-on Rodion, would definitely let anyone listening know that he hailed from deep within Polyhex. But he had not yet abandoned his bestial shell mode. The main reason, only reason really, was that the boss liked it. 'A walking set of razor clamps' is how he described it, something to add to the intimidation factor of his crew, as if anything associated with the boss lacked any degree of intimidation factor. A bot could transform into a table, and as long as he was part of Overlord's crew, he'd be feared anywhere in the city; anywhere in the emirate, really. Hell, the boss was ten feet taller than the Prime, and the new Prime was a hulking brute. But it was more than just his physicality that made the boss so terrifying, it was the combination of his brilliance and ruthlessness that made him more the authority in these parts than the nobility. He was the smartest person Skull cruncher had ever known, and he was completely devoid of any sort of compassion or remorse. He was the perfect being, and Skullcruncher was lucky enough to work for him.

"Please, don't do this." The tiny voice escaped the crate that Skullcruncher was hauling over his shoulder worry-free through the bustling streets of Rodion, reminding him that even this perfect being he worked for had needs.

"This is going to happen." The robot grumbled through the same crack in the crate that the voice had come through as he turned into an alley and continued on past several down-and-out souls hovering over a shared bottle of cheap engex. "I recognize it's going to be scary, and it will probably hurt at first, but there have been a few that have enjoyed it from what I've been told. And frankly, you should be honored just to be in his presence."

"Who's presence?" The feminine voice came back. "What is he going to do to me?"

"Shhh," The powerful gray and pink robot cooed to his encased prisoner, "you'll find out very soon. We're here." The thug continued right up to the thick rusted door of the large building built along the riverfront and pushed it open with his foot; security measures were for those whom did not inspire absolute terror throughout the entire emirate. A moment later he was inside walking past aisles of stolen goods, cages barely large enough to hold the captives that were within, and stockpiles of illegal weaponry, armor and various forms of frame enhancements that no reputable medical facility would touch. Several of Skullcruncher's colleagues turned to look at him as he entered, all sending him an acknowledging nod and a malicious grin as they caught sight of the crate. None had witnessed what was about to happen with their own optics, but they all knew what was in store for the unfortunate femme within.

Skullcruncher carried the crate through the large warehouse, past a shipping dock and through a series of doors into a large office area where an enormous robot stood hunched over a table, studying a holographic overview of Rodion. "Sir, I have one for you, a pretty blue little number. Bitch has a lot of fight in her too, had to use two submission charges on her. She's still sluggish, but don't worry, she's fully conscious and she'll feel everything."

"That's nice." The giant replied almost indifferently as he continued studying the layout of the city they were in. "Skullcruncher, did you know that most doctors feel that the addictive qualities of circuit speeders are primarily psychological, but that there is an undeniable physiological pull to them as well?"

"Uh, well, yeah." Skullcruncher replied as he placed the crate down. "I mean, I haven't done any studies on it, but you can tell that junkies need it more than just because they think they need it. Even when they're offline you can see their withdrawal tremors."

"Yes. Well, there's apparently quantifiable evidence supporting that as well." The huge robot said, finally turning around. "Based on that, I wonder if there's a way to somehow infuse hotspots with some of the more addition-causing chemicals of the speeders, or specifically, our special formula of speeders." A broad smile came over his face. "Create a batch of loyal clients the moment they're born."

"Jeez Overlord, that's," Skullcruncher chuckled, "that's slaggin' diabolical."

"And probably not possible, but fun to consider." The giant replied as he walked over to the crate. "But for a more immediate boost to business, I've decided to brand our product, call it Surge, maybe even take out advertising for Surge."

"Advertising?" Skullcruncher questioned hesitantly. "For circuit speeders? Dontcha think that's a bit…you know, crazy?"

Overlord arched one of his optics as he peered at the much smaller Skullcruncher. "I'm a sociopath, not a psychopath, my plans may be considered evil, and they're definitely ambitious, daring and often dangerous, but they're not crazy. Yes, it'd be an open invitation for law enforcement, it might be seen as a slap in the face to the powers that be…and I'm fine with that. I haven't had a good fight…well, I don't think I've ever had a good fight, certainly not if challenging constitutes good."

"Sir, you're the baddest being in existence, but after you've killed the cops, House Macht will send their army, and if we manage to beat them, Sentinel Prime will charge in with the planetary army." Skullcruncher replied. "We just don't have enough guns for all that."

"No," Overlord sighed indifferently, "not yet anyway." He then chuckled. "Fortunately I know for a fact that Militus Macht will be more than happy to let us do whatever we want if we don't openly challenge him in any way…and I may have to give him a small cut so that he can save face. For all his tough-guy appearance and threatening bravado, he's ultimately just a coward terrified of another Galvatron rising up to make him a bitch the way Jugatus was made a bitch." The thirty-six foot tall robot displayed a grin as he looked upon the crate. "Now let's see what you've brought me." Overlord reached over and effortlessly pried the front of the metal crate off, revealing a cowering and still sluggish blue femme within.

"Told ya she was cute." Skullcruncher grinned.

"You certainly didn't exaggerate." Overlord smiled as he peered lecherously at the terrified captive. He lowered his massive hand, open to the femme. "Come out my dear, let us take a better look at you." The femme just stayed crouched within the crate, staring with terror-filled optics at the impossibly large robot grinning down at her. With a grace that defied his massive bulk, the giant lowered his hand and gently gripped hers, lifting her up gently, possessing just the force required to make her rise against her will, and pulled her closer to him. "You really are a beauty. What is your name?"

"Puuhhh, puuhhhleeease, don't hurt me." The still-groggy and disoriented femme whimpered. "Juh, just let me go, please."

Overlord gently grazed his finger down her cheek and shushed her. "Shhhh, it's alright. I'll explain everything, but let's start with your name."

The femme stared up into his optics high above, a look of hopefulness on her face, a desperate clinging to the seeming kindness he was showing now leading to her release. "Ca…Chromia. Mmm, my name is Chromia."

Overlord smiled. "A beautiful name for a beautiful femme." He cupped her cheeks in his massive hands. Skullcruncher grinned at the odd sight, his boss stood more than two and a half times the femme's height, each of his legs was taller than she was. "I'm afraid that there will be pain, my dear Chromia, there must be, for both of us. There's no painless way to expose the sparks of conscious individuals, but that pain will be replaced by the most intense and wonderful pleasure you've ever known, that is, if you let yourself enjoy it."

"No, no, no no no…"

"It's alright, my beauty, everything will be alright." Overlord's smile widened. "Our sparks will mingle,"

"NO!" The cry from the femme was Skullcruncher's cue to give them a little privacy. He turned, a grin on his face as he headed toward the door, closing it behind him, keeping prying optics out, but not doing much to muffle the cries of the victim, and the laughter that would be emanating out of Overlord shortly.

"What's she look like?" Skullcruncher looked over and saw Darkwing approaching him.

"What do you care?" Skullcruncher shot back. He wasn't fond of Darkwing, or his friend Dreadwind for that matter. Two saps lucky enough to have aerial compatible shell modes, and thanks to being a part of Overlord's crew and his graciousness to his underlings, they had those shells fully upgraded to jet modes. Yet despite their amazing good fortune all they did all day was bitch and moan. "Eventually she's going to be nothing but rusted out dust like the rest of us right, so why does it matter how slaggin' pretty she is now?"

More screaming and a cruel laugh emerged through the door, defusing the tension between Darkwing and Skullcruncher and eliciting a light laugh from the two of them. "I'm not as bad as Dreadwind, I can still appreciate a pretty face and form. And one of the few things I can derive enjoyment from is hearing the boss having fun."

"Don't you pervs have anything better to do that eavesdrop on Overlord mingling with today's conquest?" The green and yellow robot walking toward them barked.

"Not right now, Crunch." Skullcruncher shot back with a smile. "Care to enjoy the show with us?"

"Actually, Crunch, I'm probably due for a break as well." The newcomer replied and leaned against the wall next to the other two.

Dreadwing looked at from one robot to the other. "So Gutcruncher, you tell Skull about the boss's plan to distribute Surge into other emirates?"

"Ha!" Skullcruncher belted. "I just now found out our stuff has a name. I sure as hell don't know about expanding the customer base."

"Yeah," Gutcruncher replied, "gonna start with the south, go as far north as Simfur, see how that goes before thinking about expanding further."

"Primus, the boss it too fearless for his own good." Skullcruncher groaned. "Branding an illegal drug is bad enough, but then advertising and distributing to other emirates, that's just an open invitation for the Primal forces to take notice and step in."

"We might wanna get our own house in order before we start conquering the rest of the world." Darkwing muttered.

"Whattaya mean?" Skullcruncher replied.

"He's just jittery because a few of our street level operators have been pinched recently." Gutcruncher pointed out, apparently unworried.

"Who in the pit is going to go after our guys?" Skullcruncher asked in surprised annoyance. "He not know which are ours and which are fair game?"

"Yeah, probably; new guy from Iacon." Gutcruncher replied. "Sent here a couple months ago, our guys in the constabulary said it was a punishment or something for pissing off the Honorums."

"Punishment?" Skullcruncher chuckled. "Cops here have it made."

"Not clean ones, and he's clean." Gutcruncher shrugged. "Apparently so clean House Pax adopted him or something."

Skullcruncher looked back and forth between the other two before bursting out laughing. "A member of a royal northern house is a beat cop in Rodion? Are you slaggin' kidding me?"

Gutcruncher chuckled as well, and Darkwing just smiled as he paid more attention to the sounds of the intimate assault going on in the next room, focusing a bit more on them as the sounds seemed to be dying down a bit. "Well, he's technically not a royal, not yet anyway. Needs to reach the age of self-determination before adoption can take place. Guess he wasn't born in the Torus Heights."

"Reach the age…how old is this guy?" Skullcruncher asked.

"Old enough to know better!" Overlord's voice called out through the door, and a moment later it opened and he came stumbling out, slightly disoriented. His inner chest armor was exposed, itself having just sealed seconds before, and his specially constructed outer armor slowly shutting into place. "I'll be talking to Captain Momus about this eager young Iaconian later today. I actually want him to make regular arrests, even of our people, it provides a sense of normalcy and an air of integrity to the city, but I need to be the one that selects who gets arrested."

The other three nodded, and then one by one looked into the room at the blue victim laid out on a table, barely conscious and in shock, her chest armor having been torn open and then bent back into place afterward, her frame shuddering every few seconds. "What about her, she going to survive?"

Overlord smiled. "Chromia? Oh yes, she's a strong one. She'll be making a full recovery…" a low, sadistic chuckled escaped his lips, "physically anyway."

Springarm

The kid wasn't making any friends, that was for sure. Springarm seemed to be the exception, he genuinely like the guy, but everyone else seemed to fall into a range from mild annoyance to outright anger. For one, he was a commoner with a royal name, which even Springarm had to admit was a bit off-putting. It's not like he put on airs or anything, he was very humble in fact, despite his obvious education, abilities and always annoying perfect grammar. But just having the name Pax was enough to make everyone else in the precinct house consider him an arrogant whelp who held himself higher than the others. Secondly, he just couldn't accept how things were. Rodion was an interesting place; interesting being a direct substitute for the word bad. But as bad as it was, it could always be worse. There was a delicate but respected understanding between the cops and criminals here. The criminals ran the show, but the cops were representatives of the Macht government and the planetary government as well, and as such needed to be seen as the authority, and were expected to achieve results. So basically any unaffiliated criminals were hunted down vigorously, basic street gangs would have members arrested from time to time but never enough to upset their overall business, and the few powerful organizations would periodically select certain members to be arrested and supply their names and evidence against them to the police. It was all done to maintain the status quo, but unfortunately Orion Pax had no respect for the status quo. Not yet anyway; though he showed little sign of it, he was still very, very young. And lastly, even when he wasn't acting to screw up the status quo, he simply made the other cops look bad. He was brilliant, partly due to the education he had received in person at Tyger Pax, which he was continuing remotely with House Pax's polyhistor, as well as his remote Academy training, but also due to the innate nature of his mind. He grasped things impossibly fast, his only limitations were his own enhanced humility and a sense of morality that kept him from any degree of ethical impropriety, and that made most of the other constables look poorly in comparison. But whether in spite of all this or because of it, Springarm just couldn't help but like the guy. "Seriously, you wouldn't want a fusion canon?"

"Why would I want a fusion canon?" Orion Pax asked as the two of them walked down the sidewalk of a small merchant district in downtown Rodion, cutting through the bustle of the people. "It's indiscriminate, and so powerful that even if you hit your target dead on, vast collateral damage would be unavoidable." Orion smiled and nodded to a few merchants, who met the smile with looks of suspicion, fear and slight anger. Despite their almost hostile reaction, Orion continued smiling to those he passed. "I recognize the need for us to carry firearms, but there's no reason we would need more than the sidearm we've been issued."

Springarm's head leaned back as a loud laugh cut out from his mouth. "Oh, man, are you serious?" He looked over to Orion, who met his question with a look of annoyance. "Look Pax, you say a fusion canon is too much, fine, you can certainly make a case for that; hell, no need for a case, you're right, a fusion canon is too much, but that doesn't mean you need to swing all the way to the other end of the spectrum and claim these pea-shooters are sufficient."

"You don't think they'd suffice for any situation we'd face here?" Orion asked, though from the new look coming over his face he seemed to be acknowledging several situations where Springarm's assertion may be correct.

Springarm however was too eager to answer the question to allow Orion to withdraw it. "Primus, you're kidding, right? Let's say you're a scumbag loaded up on speeders, and you're charging down on me. Would I have a chance of stopping you from pulling off my head by firing on you with this toy?" Springarm gestured to the weapon holstered at his side. "Be honest."

Orion peered up and down the street, hesitant to reply, but finally nodded. "Alright, yes, you're right, there are scenarios where our sidearm would be insufficient, but for the vast majority of situations they're more than enough."

"Vast majority in Polarus, Iacon, or here?" Springarm added with a smile.

Orion smiled as well. "Definitely Polarus, a stick would be sufficient there in most cases, though I do recall a situation where the use of a pair of subjugation chips was justifiable, though for one of the perpetrators not necessary."

"Oh, feeling guilty about electrocuting a perp?" Springarm asked with a smile.

"I was that perp." Orion replied, an embarrassed smile on his face.

"What?" Springarm stopped and grabbed Orion by the arm, turning him so they faced one another. "Wow! You did a bad thing?"

"I was in a tavern while underage." Orion replied, turning to continue their patrol.

Springarm rolled his optics disappointedly. "You're still underage, and will continue to be for a very long time." Springarm snarked. "And even here in Rodion, subjugating a kid for being in a pub would be seen as police brutality. Hell, even Captain Momus would be inclined to write up an officer for doing that, and he's helped smelt…uhm, never mind. So how long were you tweaking after getting hit with a chip?"

Orion eyed Springarm warily, but let the comment regarding their captain potentially aiding in the cover up of something slide for the moment. "I was in the middle of a brawl. The use of the chip was justified, It didn't come out that I was a kid until later. The subjugation was…uncomfortable, but I pried the chip off after only a few seconds."

"Pried it off?" Springarm was stunned. "You say that like it's not impossible."

Orion ignored his comrade's surprised comment. "But barring rare incidences like that, yeah, nothing more than a stick is needed in Polarus."

"Even for busting that speeder lab?" Springarm grinned slyly at Orion's look of surprise. "You're a young royal being sent to the worst precinct on the planet, are you really surprised we read up on you? But the tale of you being a juvenile delinquent was left out of the report."

"Hmmm." Orion grumbled. "OK, fine, more than a stick. And Iacon can be extremely dicey in certain sections, you'd definitely need more than a stick there, that's for sure. Rodion is dicey everywhere, but yes, even here, our sidearm should be enough in the vast majority of cases."

"Keep poking at the Overlord, and you may find out firsthand how inadequate that pea-shooter really is." Springarm replied, a light chuckle in his throat.

"I doubt he exists, and even if he does, the power of both his frame and his organization have been undoubtedly exaggerated. And even if they haven't, I've gotten the better of a thirty-six footer before." Orion replied as they noticed a commotion up ahead. "What's going on there?"

Up ahead at a small market a hullabaloo was brewing, upon closer scrutiny both Orion and Springarm could see that fellow officers Wheelarch and Whirl were having what appeared to be an argument with the proprietor of the store. Whirl looked up and saw the pair approaching them. "Speak of Unicron, and the horned asshole appears."

"I beg your pardon?" Orion asked, a little angered at the cycloptic officer's tone and language.

Wheelarch pushed Whirl aside and addressed Orion, jerking his thumb at the agitated owner of the store. "Apparently this guy was robbed, but is only willing to talk to you."

The owner turned to Orion, and walked toward him, excitedly. "You, are you da' Pax?" He asked in a thick Yussian accent.

"I am Orion Pax, though I am not a noble." Orion replied, noting the confusion of the proprietor. "I was born in Iacon, but raised by the Pax's in Tyger Pax. They have extended an offer to join their house, which I can choose to accept once I reach the age of self determination."

The merchant peered at him uncertainly. "Are you da' Pax?" He looked away, almost panicked for a moment as he tried to explain what he needed. "House Pax, they…they are justice. Freedom right of all. Truth greater than power, truth greater than authority,…they…they…" he looked pleadingly up at Orion, who nodded his understanding and placed his hand on the merchant's shoulder reassuringly.

"I am Orion of House Pax." He stated authoritatively. "Tell me what you need to tell me."

The merchant smiled up at him. "Yes…yes, good. I am Huxx, I come from Yuss to open my store. I make good living, but criminals, they insist I pay money for them to protect me, but they are the only ones I need protection from. I tell police, but they never care, tell me to piss off before I have to pay them for protection too. So I pay criminals, but they keep demanding more, they take my products, they push around my clients. Then today, criminals drag client out of store, a pretty femme, they beat me when I try to stop them, they shoot us both," Huxx held up a small disk, "it make me drop, fall, it make me unable to fight,"

"Submission charges." Springarm noted as Orion picked the disk out of Huxx's hand. "They'd probably just tickle a guy who plucks off subjugation chips, but they put most bots down for awhile."

"I'm familiar with them." Orion replied as he studied the chip, then looked to Huxx. "Are you injured?"

"No, I am fine, but lady, they put her in crate," Huxx hurriedly explained, "big one, big one with animal shell, he take her away!" They heard Whirl groan lightly and he looked over at the blue officer angrily before turning back to Orion. "They take her! Police not care, but you, you are a Pax! You must protect!"

Orion nodded. "Describe everything, starting with the victim."

Springarm watched as Orion started taking all the details, but heard Whirl starting a conversation over a communications channel. "Hey Momus, yeah, it's me. Here at a piece of shit bodega where the owner is saying someone with Skullcruncher's description busted stuff up and kidnapped a femme." Whirl paused as he listened to the response, then shot back. "Yeah I know who he's with, my net ain't creeped out yet, I'm not telling you this to make it priority one, I'm telling you this because the shopkeeper is telling Pax, and the kid is intent on saving the slaggin' day." Springarm glared at Whirl, who noted the stare and replied by having his optic change shades to red and glow intensely. His optic suddenly changed back to normal and he turned away as he heard something that surprised him. "Whaddaya mean let him proceed? You wanna start a war?" He paused again as he listened. "Oooo, OK, will do. Consider Officer Save-A-Ho off the leash."

Springarm continued staring at Whirl as he closed the channel and started walking toward Orion. "What was that about?"

"Police business." Whirl snapped as he bumped shoulders with Springarm and continued to Orion questioning Huxx. "What you got?"

"Kidnapping, likely bound for slave trade or worse. Blue femme, going to look at security footage from the store to get full image." Orion stated, following after Huxx as the shop owner started leading him into his store. "Alert Momus, let him know what's going on."

"Funny thing, I just did that." Whirl replied.

"I don't care what he said, I am investigating this and I'm going to find that citizen!" Orion snapped back.

"Naw kid, it's not like that." Whirl came back. "He can't afford to give you any support, but he wants you to see this through."

Orion stared at him intensely for a moment, knowing that there was some deception going on, but unable to deal with it until the situation with the kidnapped femme was resolved. "Alright. I'll see you later."

Whirl nodded and turned to Wheelarch and Springarm. "You two, Momus wants us back at the house."

Terminus

He was permitted to enter much of Castle Macht whenever he wanted, though the inner section, the living quarters of the Machts', was accessed by invitation only. The old bot had been informed that Megatron was at Castle Macht, and was hoping that the young gladiator, the young…killer, was somewhere Terminus could find him. He had long imagined what Megatron's fate would be, and in nearly every scenario it involved him taking lives, but Terminus had always assumed, or perhaps hoped, that the first time his protégé took a life there would be a pause, some hesitation, even if it was necessary. The old robot was stunned to the point of nearly being sick when watching Megatron kill for the first time, a killing that was devoid of necessity or pause. Militus was taking Terminus's champion and successfully turning him into a monster.

Terminus walked through the courtyard, passing meek servants and big dangerous-looking guards until spying Straxus coming out of the main entrance. "Lord Straxus, a word please." Terminus called out the request, though it was one that he would not accept a refusal of.

"What is it, Terminus?" The rotund low noble growled.

"Have you seen Megatron?"

"The arrogant shit you unleashed on us all?" Straxus snapped. "Yeah, he's in one of the side rooms in the library. Lord Militus called in some people for him to meet with."

"People?" Terminus asked.

"I don't know, some people Megatron asked Lord Macht to invite, and in his graciousness, Lord Macht granted him the request." Straxus replied, doing little to hide his jealousy and disgust. "I'm not one to question my better, but I fear Emir Macht indulges that commoner far too much."

"Thank you for your assistance, Lord Straxus." Terminus replied before heading toward the library. Formal permission had not been granted to him to enter the library, but he had served House Macht for a very long time, and recently as Megatron's mentor he had been allowed more access to the fortress than ever. Hopefully nobody would question his presence there.

As he entered the seemingly deserted library he could make out a voice coming from a small room on the far end. He quietly approached the room; he had no intention of interrupting anything, but he could no longer put off waiting for Megatron to make time for him. As he got closer the words became clear enough for him to make them out.

"Oh, slag Kokular! I laugh at all claims of impenetrability when it comes to fortresses, and obviously so did Gallus Honorum!" The unknown feminine voice boasted. "Fixed fortifications are monuments to a Cybertronian's stupidity!"

Terminus paused and leaned against the wall, actively attempting to eavesdrop, and heard his protégé mirthfully reply. "Very true, though until they come tumbling down they can serve as an effective symbol. Intimidation can be a potent weapon, can it not?"

"Perhaps." The question was answered by a masculine voice which Terminus did not know. "For to win one hundred victories in one hundred battles is not the acme of skill. To subdue the enemy without fighting is the acme of skill."

"Balderdash!" The feminine voice grumbled.

"But one must also be extremely subtle, even to the point of formlessness." The masculine voice continued, ignoring the protest from the female companion. "Be extremely mysterious, even to the point of soundlessness. Thereby you can be the director of your opponent's fate."

"You'll have to excuse Obsidian, he's more on the philosophical plain of battle tactics, and less on the practical level you and I are on." The feminine voice replied, the name she presented caused Terminus's spark to freeze up. There had been two wars of southern aggression, and countless smaller skirmishes between them, and through each one there were two prevalent names. Two generals who achieved countless victories. If the male was Obsidian, then the current speaker could be none other than his paramour Strika. "Beyond all the strategies and tactics that we've gone over with you today, the thing you must remember most is that by perseverance, study, and eternal desire, any being can become great. Oh, and that a good plan, violently executed now, is better than the perfect plan executed next week. Oh, and in war the only sure defense is offense, and the efficiency of the offense depends on the warlike souls of those conduct…"

"What you must remember most," Obsidian interrupted, "is that all warfare is based on deception. Hence, when we are able to attack, we must seem unable; when using our forces, we must appear inactive; when we are near, we must make the enemy believe we are far away; when far away, we must make him believe we are near."

"Balderdash!" Strika grumbled again. "War is simple, direct, and ruthless!"

"But was it not you who said 'the leader must be an actor'?" Obsidian countered.

"Maybe, but I've said much better stuff than that." She replied, eliciting a good natured chuckle from both Megatron and Obsidian.

"Deception, young Megatron." Obsidian instructed. "For both your pit fights as well as whatever other endeavors you choose to use our tutelage toward."

"Thank you my lord and lady," Megatron replied, for once lacking any venom when presenting the words lord and lady, "but the gladiatorial pits are the only outlet I will have to utilize these incredibly valuable lessons."

"Ha!" Strika belted out. "Planning on having a lot of attrition and siege warfare in these pits? Your promoters can actually find spectators willing to pay to sit through weeks of that?"

"My consort is correct," Obsidian replied, "only a small portion of what we've shared with you will be applicable to battles in arenas fought between individual squads. You have been pressing us primarily for our wisdom in large scale warfare that will not serve a mere gladiator."

Terminus continued waiting outside the room, not daring to look inside, but despite not being able to see what was happening, he knew Megatron well enough to know he was displaying a knowing smile right now. "My lord general, I am merely trying to take your greatest lesson to heart."

"Ha!" Obsidian belted out. "Well said my young deceiver! Perhaps you will take your place at our side someday as one of Cybertron's greatest military protectors."

"You honor me my lord." Megatron replied humbly.

"This truly was a pleasure." Strika stated as the sounds of their frames pushing away from their chairs prompted Terminus to quietly reposition himself to another part of the library and pretend to be focused on one of the data pads there, "but it is time we left."

"Good luck in the pits, young Megatron." Obsidian said as they exited the room. The two legendary generals continued toward the door without acknowledging Terminus at all, while Megatron sent him a heated stare before turning his attention back to the guests and walking them to the door.

"I thank you both for your invaluable tutelage." Megatron stated with absolute sincerity. "May I contact either of you in the future with questions or for advice?"

"Absolutely!" Strika replied. "While we are constantly questioned about our philosophies or tales of our battles, it is rarely if ever by someone with a mind as acute as yours."

"Yes, we would be honored and happy to have further discussions with you." Obsidian continued. "We expect to hear of you prominently in the vorns to come."

"Thank you my lord and lady." Megatron bowed as he held the door for them and watched them leave. He then turned toward Terminus. "Looking for a good pad to read? I've spent a great deal of time here recently, I can recommend a few, though I tend to stick to the military history and philosophy sections, which can be kind of dry to some."

Terminus put the data pad he had been pretending to study back on the shelf and marched over to Megatron. "I knew that in all likelihood you would someday be in a position where you would have to take a life." He stopped in front of Megatron and glared at him. "I never imagined that you would charge into it almost mirthfully, embracing a need to kill that could have been easily, hell, effortlessly avoided! And I never imagined that you would treat the life of, not even an enemy, but an opponent, so disrespectfully, as if their life were utterly insignificant! That is not how I raised you!"

"You did not raise me!" Megatron snarled. "You watched me pull myself from a pit. You gave me a name, you set me up and allowed me to raise myself. Which is fine, that's to be expected, frankly that's far more than most do and that I've ever done for another. I am grateful for that, and definitely do not begrudge you for not doing more, but you did not raise me." Megatron softened his tone. "You are my closest friend, you mean more to me than anyone else in the world, but the kindnesses and opportunities you've provided me do not entitle you to tell me how to act or what to do. I am no longer a protoform; while young, I have long exceeded the age of self determination. I am fully capable of choosing my own path, and you can no longer prevent me from doing so."

Terminus stared at Megatron for a bit before nodding. "You're right about all that, I don't disagree with any of it. But I still can and will convey my shock and outrage at what you did to Hydrau in the pit. You used him as nothing more than a tool to prove your power to the oil-thirsty masses. He was nothing more than fodder for your path to glory."

Megatron met his gaze evenly, a stone expression coming over his face. "Everything is fodder." With that Megatron turned and marched toward the door, Terminus following after him.

"Those are Militus Macht's words coming out of your mouth!" Terminus growled.

"The words coming out of my mouth will always and only be mine." Megatron snapped back his reply. "If others happen to agree with them, so be it."

"Why the interest in military history and strategy?" Terminus asked heatedly as he caught up and marched alongside Megatron. "Why did you request that Cybertron's greatest living generals meet with and instruct you?"

Megatron snickered. "The pits are trending more toward themed fights involving small groups. It's going to be less about one mech fighting another, more about teams, often in specifically designed environments. Sometimes they'll be reenactments of historical battles. This was the reasoning I gave Lord Macht for having him arrange this session."

"But what's the real reason you had him arrange it?" Terminus asked accusingly.

Megatron halted and turned to face Terminus. "For now, that's the only reason I'm going to give." A small smile came to the corner of his mouth. "After all, all warfare is based on deception."

For the first time in his life, Terminus was becoming scared of Megatron. After a long pause he replied quietly. "We're not at war." Megatron remained silent, but his smile broadened, and he turned and continued marching toward the front of Castle Macht. Terminus just allowed him to go, staring at the wall as his protégé slipped away from him.

Elita Solus

It had taken a lot of persuasion, but Exponum had finally allowed her to travel with a shipment of supplies to Ratchet's clinic all by herself. Of course he had purchased an armored transport and arranged to have it ready for her when she arrived in Rodion, and paid a private company to load the freighter while she remained in the relative safety of the cab. She had drawn the line at his request to employ a security team to guard her. She was a highly trained warrior and smart enough to avoid trouble, she could drop off the medical supplies and get back home without incident.

And so far, everything was going well. The supplies had been dropped off, put away, and Elita was now assisting Ratchet with some of his patients. As bad as the city had been the first time she'd visited, it had gotten worse. Ratchet had been correct about the impact of the fight circuit on central Rodion, crime had gotten worse and his clinic was now overflowing with individuals in need of varying degrees of attention. Fortunately nobody seemed to be in critical condition, but that could change at any minute. Currently Elita was using clamps and a laser scalpel to close a gash in a patient's leg and weld it shut. The patient was the lowliest of commoners, likely intoxicated on speeders or cheap engex, and just stared at Elita. While off-putting, the stare wasn't noticeably threatening, so she continued about her work on him and remained pleasant.

There was a mild, almost imperceptible sensation that seemed to be coming from her spark suddenly, but the sound of the door opening and shutting behind her forced her to dismiss the odd feeling and recognize that her plan to leave shortly may be delayed once again. Ratchet had stressed that she was under no obligation to stay and help, and that she should leave, but she felt it her duty to stick around and help as much as she could. She had not given up her views on, and support of, the nobility system, but she had come to view these commoners as people deserving of respect, health and good treatment. "We'll be right with you, please sign in." She acknowledged the newcomer without turning to look at him or her, and once again completely disregarded the mild sensation within her.

"I'm not a patient, I'm here to speak with Ratchet." The deep voice stated behind her.

"Well he's busy in the back with a patient, so you're going to have to wait." Elita replied, still focused on her patient's leg.

"Is the patient he's working on in a life threatening situation?" The visitor asked.

What an annoying…. "I don't see how that's any of your business." Elita replied, still not turning around to face him.

"I apologize, but this is an emergency, and provided he's not keeping someone from spark failure or long term brain module damage, I'm going back there." The visitor replied, not disrespectfully, but making it clear he was not going to be dissuaded.

The welding of the leg finished, Elita righted herself and spun around to look at this extremely annoying, demanding and insolent individual. "You will do no such…" her optics locked onto him and she froze. He was stunning, she'd say perfect were it not for the scuffs and tarnishing all over his impossibly athletic frame, but she immediately regained her composure, and readopted her anger. "thing!" She stared up into his optics. "What is the nature of your emergency?"

The red and blue robot peered back at her quietly for a moment. Could he be as staggered by her as she had been when confronted by him? "Police business." He finally spit out.

"Police business?" Elita spat back. "Are you suggesting that Ratchet is in any sort of trouble? He's about the only good thing this town has left, and you're telling me the police are interested in him?"

The officer merely smiled. "No, he's not in any sort of trouble, and yes, while I disagree that he's the only good thing in Rodion, I do agree that he may be the best thing this city has going for it. And the police aren't interested in him, just me. Believe it or not, he and I are…well, we don't know each other that well, but I like to think we're friends, or at least headed in that direction."

"Be that as it may, you still need to wait out here for him." Elita stated firmly.

"If I walk back there, is a patient going to die?" The officer asked, a bit of impatience entering into his voice.

"That's none of your…" Elita started saying, but stopped as the officer brushed right past her and started heading back into the clinic.

"That's a no." The officer stated as he headed toward the back. "Were it a yes, you'd have said as much."

"I don't care, you get back here now!" Elita called after him. When he didn't stop she threw a punch to the small of his back. She expected him to collapse into a ball, but she barely got a grunt out of him.

He turned and looked at her, not threateningly or even angrily, just with a look of surprise. "You strike very well, so please don't do that again. I assure you, Ratchet won't mind seeing me and this is very important."

Elita paused. The way he spoke, and carried himself, and, well, other factors gave her the impression that he wasn't just a typical commoner. In fact, if he were polished and in a different environment, she'd guess him to be a noble. But even if that unlikelihood was true, he still had no right to just barge in, so she continued following after him as he continued to the back room of the clinic.

The officer opened the door and entered a room, Ratchet raised his gaze up away from the patient on his slab and locked optics with the officer. "Damnit, what the hell are you doing here?"

"I thought he wouldn't mind seeing you?" Elita grumbled. "I apologize Ratchet, he just barged in here. I tried to stop him."

"It's fine Elita," Ratchet said, still staring at the officer. "Well, make yourself useful. This dipstick wandered out in front of a speeding transport while stoned out of his melon on speeders and engex, and it's up to me to put his innards back where they belong."

The officer nodded. "He out?"

Ratchet nodded. "Has been offline since the impact. We can talk."

The officer nodded his head toward Elita as he stepped up to the patient and began demonstrating an impressive degree of medical know-how in putting his right leg back together. Ratchet looked to the suddenly surprised and more than a little impressed Elita. "She's as trustworthy as you are, and probably as big a do-gooder too. I'm assuming that's why you're here; more of your do-gooding?"

"It's my job." The officer replied.

"You've been in this city long enough to know that's not your job." Ratchet replied.

"There is a great deal of corruption and apathy in my department, but serving and protecting the public is still and always will be my job." The officer replied. He was a bit hokey, but Elita was starting to warm up to him. He raised his optics and looked earnestly into Ratchet's. "A femme was kidnapped this morning. Blue, pretty, fourteen to fifteen feet in height. The description of the leader of the group that grabbed her appears to be a match for an individual named Skullcruncher. I'm aware of a slave trade, and I've heard the rumors that Rodion provides it a large source of supply. I need to shut it down…I need to find this femme. Where can I find Skullcruncher?"

Ratchet shook his head. "Look kid, I wish…"

A holographic image of the victim standing in the store shot out from the officer's wrist. "According to the database, her name is Chromia."

Ratchet stared at the image for several seconds before looking back up at the officer. "Very clever, slap a name and a face on the victim and there's no way I can refuse, is that it?"

"Yes, that's it." The officer replied with a sly grin as he continued working on the patient.

"Frankly kid, that's overkill." Ratchet replied. "I'd help without those things. But the fact is that I don't know where you can find Skullcruncher. Well…" the doctor paused, "I'm pretty sure he frequents Evicerator's. It's a shithole in the southern quadrant."

"I know where Evicerator's is." The officer replied. "Thanks Ratchet, I had really hit a wall on this."

"What, the kid who cracked the Spark Collector case gets stuck trying to find a nitwit like Skullcruncher?" Ratchet smiled as he went back to work on his patient. "You gonna be here later to lend some hands?"

"Not likely tonight." The officer said as he turned to leave. "I doubt I'll have this situation resolved by then, and it has my focus until it is."

Ratchet looked back up. "Look Pax,"

"Pax?" Elita blurted out.

Ratchet looked at her for a moment before turning back to the officer and continuing. "You know who Skullcruncher works for, right?"

"I've heard the rumors." The officer shrugged. "Frankly, it doesn't make a difference."

"Had a feeling you'd say that." Ratchet replied. "Best case scenario, you will be here later, but you'll be on this slab clinging to life. More likely scenario, you'll be on a slab at the morgue."

"Pax?"

The officer looked at the femme, and then back to Ratchet. "I always shoot for the best, so yeah, guess I'll be seeing you later, sir."

"Ha, you're the sir, Lord Pax." Ratchet chuckled. "I'm just a common-born shlub."

"No, sir, you are a teacher, a mentor, a person making the world better." The officer replied, finishing up his patch-work of the patient's leg. "You deserve titles of respect far more than someone merely possessing a family name."

"Hey!" Elita protested, but shrunk a little as the officer turned and seemed to silently challenge her to argue his point. In the months that she had been volunteering for Ratchet, many of her assumptions regarding social status had shifted, but she still had a problem when the long existing caste system was openly challenged. But on this particular occasion, given that it was Ratchet being used to represent the common class, she decided to back down and say nothing. The officer turned back to Ratchet and nodded before heading toward the door leading to the hallway. Elita watched him, unsure of what to do before realizing what had seemed so pressing prior to his dismissive remark about nobility. "Wait, you're a Pax?"

The police officer entered the hallway, but replied just loud enough to be heard. "Aye, in a way."

Elita looked to Ratchet, who was already back to work on his patient. She then followed after the police officer. "Wait!" Despite her command, he continued walking away. "Wait!" She sped up, reached him and gripped his arm. "Wait…please." He stopped, and turned to look down into her optics. She stared up into his for a few moments, unable to do anything else. The cocking of his left optic brow broke her out of her reverie and prompted her to speak. "Oh, right. Do you know Torenia Pax?"

The large male was a little surprised by the question and turned to face her squarely. "Of course I know Torenia, she's my moth…" the robot paused, looking at Elita questioningly, "why?"

"She's a friend," she replied, still staring deeply into his optics, "and you're Orion, aren't you?"

For the first time Elita witnessed this newcomer being thrown off guard, and she smiled inwardly at the pleasure that gave her. "I…yes, I am Orion Pax. Have you discussed me with Torenia?" Elita looked down, unsuccessfully hiding the smile that came over her face. "Look, Elita of House Solus, I'm glad that the initial acrimony between us seems to have abated, and I genuinely would like to continue this conversation, I really would, but I need to find a kidnapped citizen."

Elita looked up. "How did you know I was Elita Solus?"

Orion shrugged as he turned back toward the waiting room and the exit beyond. "Ratchet called you Elita, you're obviously a noble or royal, and my education included the living members of every high house."

Elita laughed. "I'm obviously a noble? You're the one throwing around words like acrimony, Lord Pax!" The statement forced Orion to turn and give her a very broad, very genuine grin.

"I'm just a polished commoner with a fancy name, my lady." He said before exiting the hallway. "I hope to speak with you again." With that he left. Elita wanted to charge after him, to keep their being together going, but she forced herself to accept that he had a job to do. It was then that she fully recognized the job that he was setting out to do, and felt shame welling up in her at not appreciating the magnitude of what he was doing. A femme had been snatched, was either dead or being held captive, if alive she was terrified, hurt, and without hope. Elita had come to Rodion to make things better, and if she could make things better for this Chromia, then by the Guiding Hand, she would.

Elita started marching toward the door Orion had just gone through and entered the waiting room. She scanned the room and identified the most 'criminal'-looking individual there, walking right up to him. "Tell me where to find Evicerator's!"

Kup

The winds were always fierce in the mountains of the polar city of Taenarus, but winter had firmly taken hold and the blue Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Gate was actually forced to exert himself as he trudged across the clearing in front of the main gate. Ice was building on his frame, posing an added irritation, but he should only be out in the blizzard a few moments more. He only needed to make a retrieval and then he would be back inside, traveling deep enough so that the other temperature extreme would be assaulting his frame in nearly equal measure. He looked ahead toward the lone candidate, the one called Mindwipe, who had impressed him more than any candidate in a very, very long time. There was still something about the candidate that unnerved the Lord Commander, but those unidentifiable feelings of dread were pushed aside. Mindwipe was beyond dedicated to the cause, and his knowledge of the Wardens, their mission and history even before arriving was beyond impressive.

The candidate was kneeling away from Kup, facing the pass that represented the only traversable way in or out by land, as he had been for over a day. It was the final test before being permitted to making his vows and becoming a Warden of the Tartarun Gates. If Mindwipe were still conscious, he'd probably hear Kup crunching through the snow as he made his approach. Of course, there was a good chance he wasn't conscious; there was even a distinct possibility that he may even be dead, the weather had gotten that harsh up here. "Mindwipe, lad, you still with us?"

The candidate's head slowly turned toward Kup; he was hideous looking, but that was a non-issue for Kup. "Oh yes."

"Good," Kup replied with a smile, placing his hand on Mindwipe's shoulder "I was afraid that you might have died."

Mindwipe chuckled as he started getting up. "I rise again, harder and stronger."

Kup smiled, but something about those words tickled a memory, one ancient and likely lost to data creep. It was probably nothing, and easily dismissed. "Good, we will need you hard and strong in service to the Wardens, and the world. Now rise, and take your vows before the ancient Guardian."

"Omega Supreme?" Kup smiled at Mindwipe's genuine awe.

"He waits to determine your worthiness." Kup stated as used his hand on Mindwipe's shoulder to help direct the frozen and wobbly candidate back toward the outer gate. Though not a great distance, the trek back was arduous and slow going, every step a grinding torture for Mindwipe's frozen frame, but eventually they made it into the mountain and the enormous metal door sealed behind them.

They continued walking across the vast expanse, through gates into new sections, each getting progressively hotter, until after many miles they passed through one more and Kup came to a stop before one final giant gate. "This is the final gate that we will pass through. You will enter a candidate, I hope that I will be returning with a fellow Warden; a brother."

"I can think of no greater honor." Mindwipe replied, smiling at the Lord Commander before turning toward the final giant metal gate. As they approached, it rolled enough for them to pass through. The robots entered the dark expanse, the lamps on the walls, which were powered by the geo-thermals of the depths, glowed dimly. The two walked slowly, Mindwipe uncertain of what to do beyond simply following Kup's lead, stopping when the Lord Commander stopped, but utterly confused by what to do then. He stared at Kup, wondering why the old robot was just standing there in the dark hot cave, apparently waiting for something to happen. What he was apparently waiting for finally happened as the wall stepped toward them from the shadows with glowing green optics and a suddenly fiery glow emanating from the mouth of a canon mounted on an impossibly giant robot's left hand. "Ahhh!" The normally calm and emotionless Mindwipe yelled out in terror of the sight, causing Kup to laugh.

"Was that really necessary, my friend?" Kup called up to the giant, but the massive robot simply continued staring heatedly at the candidate cowering away from him. Noticing the intensity not waning, Kup stepped between the two. "Omega Supreme, relax, he's with me! This is Mindwipe, the candidate that I described to you yesterday. He has completed his fast and his submersion in the elements. He has not only passed all tests given him, but he's been in the top five percentile in every category."

Omega Supreme hesitantly turned his glowing green optics away from the cowering Mindwipe and looked to the Lord Commander. "Something…amiss."

Kup turned and studied Mindwipe for several moments before replying. "Well, yeah, he's from Nyon. Try not to hold that against him." Kup laughed as he smiled at Mindwipe and turned back to Omega Supreme.

The one hundred twenty foot tall behemoth stood up fully and stepped back. "If the Lord Commander deems the candidate worthy, Omega Supreme will accept the candidate's vows."

Kup turned to Mindwipe, prompting the still terrified southerner into action. Mindwipe dropped to one knee, bowed his head and called out loudly and clearly. "We stand at the brink, the forces of chaos and death ever vigilant for an opportunity to succeed where they once failed. I take my place in the brotherhood guarding the abyss, pledging every moment of the next vorn to the sacred duty of protecting the living of our world, the spark-based and organic, from the evils of the unlife held within this crypt. I shall have no possessions, seek no fortune or glory, I shall have no existence outside my duties as a Warden of the Tartarun Gates. The evils we watch over will be provided no opportunities to spread their death. This I vow, until the moment the Lord Commander relieves me of my duty."

Mindwipe remained silent upon completing his vow, but after several moments he finally raised his head and peered into the burning green optics of Omega Supreme, who continued to regard him with an unreadable expression. After many tense moments the giant finally nodded. "Arise, Mindwipe, Warden of the Tartarun Gates." The winged robot smiled as he rose.

Xaaron

He should have realized something was amiss the moment he was summoned to a meeting with Sentinel Prime. Had he not offered to represent Orion Pax at that farce of a trial a few months back he doubted Prime would even know who he was. This feeling was definitely reinforced as he waited for the Prime in the empty chamber for over an hour, only to be informed by the Prime's guards that other matters had arisen forcing him to be away. It wasn't until he was in Guardian's Square that he heard what was happening. The trial of the Autobot prisoners had commenced, and he had been drawn away to prevent him from offering to represent them.

Xaaron finally reached the Forum of Justice, where in all likelihood the Magistratus had already sentenced the accused to death. He bolted through the main entrance, noticing the smirks of the Primal guards loitering there while Sentinel was undoubtedly within watching his version of justice come to pass. Xaaron sprinted up stairs, down the hall and slowed enough so that he could enter the chamber where the trial was reportedly taking place without causing a commotion. All the subtlety was unnecessary, as the assembled onlookers, most nobles or senators, were quite vocal with their outrage at the prisoners on trial, who, much to Xaaron's dismay, were shackled and gagged.

"Silence!" The presiding judge, Senator Proteus, called out to the assembled spectators. When the roar diminished to a dull collection of individual muffled conversations Proteus looked to the individual defending the accused. "You may proceed Senator Decimus."

Xaaron shook his head in despondence. Senator Interjectus Decimus was nothing more than a rich jerk unwilling to work hard at anything, but having been born into House Decimus was able to do whatever he wanted. Unfortunately for those interested in true justice on Cybertron, what he wanted was to be a Senator. Not that he was clever enough to do any real damage on his own, but he was more than willing to play whatever role was asked of him in the machinations of those that were clever enough. So here he was, defending those he despised and wanted nothing more than to see removed from this plain of existence in this kangaroo court.

"Thank you your honor." Interjectus Decimus replied. "I feel that the evidence used to support the prosecution's accusation that these citizens attacked the Prime is insufficient."

"We have numerous recordings of the attack, as well as the testimony of dozens of witnesses, including Security Commander Prowl and Sentinel Prime himself; individuals whose integrity or judgment cannot be called into question." Xaaron was surprised to see that the prosecution was being conducted by Consul Traachon himself, the current ranking member of the Senate. They were not taking any chances. "All of which is moot given that the accused have confessed to attacking the Prime and his entourage."

"They have confessed to defending themselves non-lethally against Sentinel Prime's entourage, isn't that right, hmm?" Decimus replied, almost reveling in the set-up he created for Traachon.

"Of course they have." Traachon replied. "The evidence putting them at the scene and attacking the Prime was insurmountable, the best they could hope for was to mitigate the severity of their crimes. You're welcome to believe this desperate ploy of theirs if you wish, but I for one cannot swallow it."

Senator Decimus merely shrugged, smiled and motioned to the restrained accused. "There's only so much I can do with this." Everyone in the chamber chuckled at that sans Xaaron, who turned away in disgust, seeing Sentinel Prime standing in the doorway that he had come through mere moments before staring at him with a satisfied smile on his face. Prime nodded back into the hallway, an invitation that Xaaron knew he had no choice but to accept.

The two left the chamber and allowed the double doors to fully shut before Sentinel gently cupped Xaaron's shoulder and grinned. "I apologize for missing our meeting, things can get quite busy for a Prime, I assure you, but I'm so glad you could make it to these proceedings." The Prime stared intensely into the senator's optics as his hand slid off his shoulder.

Xaaron met Sentinel's gaze unflinchingly but displayed nothing but courtesy from his face. "No need to apologize for your absence, I have no doubt that whatever goals were set for it will be met."

Sentinel's grin faltered ever so slightly and an edge came to his look. "No doubt they will."

"And I must apologize as well, I'd have been here sooner, but I fear I was unaware of these proceedings until just a little while ago." Xaaron continued.

"No matter, there was nothing you could have done here." Prime replied.

Xaaron nodded knowingly. "It was noble of you to recues yourself from these proceedings. I recognized that must be a difficult thing to do given your personal stake in all this."

Prime chuckled lightly. "Well, we must maintain the appearance of impartiality."

"On that note," Xaaron replied, "the fact that the accused are shackled and muffled might be seen as…well, a breach of fairness."

"These are dangerous individuals." Prime replied. "Their leader uses sonic waves as weapons. We can't take any chances, nor are their undoubted outbursts welcome here."

"And the apparent media blackout?" Xaaron asked cordially. "I'm a senator, and even I was unaware of this trial until after it had begun."

"What media blackout? Any lack of attention is because this holds no value to the public." Prime replied dismissively. "We have no interest in keeping any of this under wraps."

Xaaron nodded, finding it harder to keep his skepticism from manifesting itself in his facial features. "That's good. In light of the Orion Pax trial and the Autobots being far more media savvy than previously thought, some might raise the absurd suggestion that you're keeping this quiet to avoid footage supporting their version of the events." Xaaron noted a distinctly dark turn in Sentinel's facial features, but didn't shy away in any way.

After several seconds Sentinel calmed and forced a smile. "To any that fear these judicial proceedings to be unjust, I can point out that they are being defended by a senator."

"Yes, Senator Decimus, how fortunate for the accused." Xaaron replied, hiding the sarcasm in his delivery, though there was really no way for the words to be construed as anything else but sarcasm.

Sentinel Prime laughed as he once again placed his hand on Xaaron's shoulder. "Yes, you see, we are all about seeing that justice is served. Enjoy the proceedings." With that Sentinel Prime removed his hand and started marching down the hall, away from the court forum.

"Aren't you going wait for the verdict?" Xaaron called out.

Without turning back Prime called back his answer. "I'm afraid I have too much to do." But after a couple more steps he did stop and turn his head slightly, eyeing Xaaron with one arrogant optic. "But I already know how it will turn out."

Darkwing

It was too early for Evicerator's to be crowded, but there were at least two dozen patrons warming the stools as Darkwing walked in with Dreadwind. The same old frames burdening the same old seats for the most part. Strangers were a rarity in this place, either due to a lack of awareness or a lack of courage, new faces were almost never seen here. Especially a face of such pristine beauty on a perfectly maintained and polished pink frame. "What the slag is that?" Dreadwind asked as he stared at the femme with the points on her helmet.

"It's a femme, you need to get out more." Darkwing replied.

"I know what it is, but what is she doing HERE?" Dreadwind grumbled in annoyance. "Every other femme we've seen in this shithole has been walking proof that gender dimorphism is a myth, and now we have…this."

"Yeah, she's a hot piece of bumper." Darkwing replied eyeing the femme lustfully as the two sat down at a table. "My spark is throbbing just from looking at her."

"OK, we'll table the why she's in here question for later." Dreadwind said. "I'm curious as to why she's chatting it up with Noose."

"Looks almost like she's interrogating the scrawny bastard." Darkwing observed as the pink femme appeared to be browbeating an acquaintance of theirs at the bar. They watched as she turned away from Noose in frustrated disgust and peered around the pub, her gaze settling on them and a smile came over her face. "Holy shit, I think she's coming over here."

"Why?" Dreadwind muttered almost nervously.

"I've read about this." Darkwing replied quietly as they watched her walking their way. "Rich chick, probably a noble, but her fetish is to spend time with seedy criminal types. She's into a big deviation from her high class, polished life. Bad boy complex or something."

"Too bad." Dreadwind answered. "The boss prefers it when they aren't into it."

"Trust me, she would not be into that." Darkwing replied just as the femme got to them. "Why hello there."

"Hello to you as well." The pink femme replied to Darkwing, then looked to Dreadwind. "Hello to you as well. Do you boys mind if I take a seat with you?"

"Why?" Dreadwind asked bluntly, earning him a kick under the table from Darkwing.

"Please do, my friend here is a bit of a kidder." Darkwing replied as he offered the femme one of the two remaining chairs. "I'm Darkwing, my friend here is named Dreadwind."

"Nice to meet you boys." The femme replied. "I'm Elita."

"Elita, such a pretty name, but a femme with your appearance deserves nothing less." Darkwing replied, earning him a smile from Elita and a groan from Dreadwind.

"I'm glad there's two of you." Elita stated. "You see, I'm in town to meet a friend of mine, and as there are two of you, and there'll be two of us, well…" Elita's optics increased in illumination.

Darkwing leaned forward. "Well we'd love to keep you and your friend company. When's she getting here?"

Elita smiled coyly, but then gave a look of mild annoyance. "She was supposed to meet me earlier, but she never showed up. I'm sure we'll touch base at some point." Elita then perked up. "Maybe you know her. Her name is Chromia," Darkwing couldn't help but shudder a tad from the surprise, and noted that this Elita was not only studying them closely, but had noticed his momentary lack of composure, "she's blue and very pretty." Elita finished the statement without the playfulness that their conversation had prior to his reaction to hearing the name Chromia. The femme continued studying him intently. "So, do you know her?" The question was almost accusatory.

"You're the very first femme that doesn't transform into a titanium wastehouse to ever walk in here." Dreadwind replied indifferently, unaware of the silent intensity going on between the other two. "So unless she's some nasty…" a backhand to the face knocked Dreadwind to the floor.

Darkwing was stunned to see the femme strike his friend, but was even more stunned a moment later to see the tip of a blade an inch from his optic. "Where is she?" Elita snarled.

"You're quick." Darkwing replied once he got his bearings a little. "But you're out of your depth."

"Why, because your big bad crocodilian friend has experience attacking women?" Elita quipped. "Believe me, I've been trained to deal with worse than him."

"Trained? Trained where," Darkwing asked with a smile, "the gardens of some high house? Some enjoyable sparring with your personal trainer before the evening energon consumption with the other nobles of your house?" Darkwing's chuckling was shared by other patron's of the bar who had stopped their drinking to watch what was going on. "This is Rodion, bitch, and your friend is now the property of its overlord. You're not trained to deal with this."

"I'll take my chances." Elita replied.

"You're lack of practical experience is already starting to show." Darkwing smiled broadly. "I'm sure you're strong and all, but we both know that my friend wouldn't still be on the floor from the backhand of a femme." Elita's optics widened as she realized Darkwing was right, but shuddered as a submission charge was slapped against her thigh. Darkwing reached up to grab the knife, but was slashed across his cheek as he struggled with it. "Ahhh, bitch!" He got a hold of her wrist and managed to put a little distance between the blade and his face as Dreadwind got up and started punching her. "Giver another charge!"

Dreadwind pulled back, withdrew another small disk and flipped it onto Elita, who shuddered again and dropped to one knee. Darkwing lunged forward and kicked her in the head, sending her back falling to the ground. "One more?" Dreadwind asked.

"Yeah, do it!" Darkwing snapped as he watched Elita fighting off the effects of the two charges and the kick and struggled to get back to her feet. Another charge slapped her shoulder, causing her to drop again. "One more, just to be safe." Dreadwind did as he was instructed, the fourth submission charge leaving Elita unable to do anything except shudder and twitch on the floor.

"Damn, four charges to finally keep her down." Dreadwind remarked. "Tough bitch."

"Pretty bitch." Darkwing knelt down next to her and stroked her face, smiling into the angry, hate-filled optic. "So, what's more important to me, revenge…" he asked gently as he pulled his hand back, "or reward."

For the first time in ages Dreadwind let out a chuckle. "Giving her to the boss gets you both."

Darkwing nodded. "Yes it does."

Nightbeat

Near as he could tell, this Elpasos was a world inhabited by robotic life, but it seemed unlikely that they were one species. There was a fair bit of diversity with the robotic life on Cybertron, but you could trace the origins of every species back to sparks emerging from the planetary core and sentio metallico found on the surface. The vast majority of robots wandering the streets of Huecotanq, the low mountainous town that Nightbeat currently found himself in, seemed to have little in common with one another apart from being humanoid for the most part and possessing differing degrees of mechanical anatomy. From what he could tell, this, and pretty much every other city on the planet was a melting pot for all manner of robotic life, which was ironic given the dirt and rock terrain gave the distinct impression that this was an organic world. It probably once was, but mechanical extraterrestrial immigrants appeared to have made it their home.

The helpful bartender in that rundown saloon in the planetary capital had directed him here, to an even more rundown saloon in this rundown town. Apparently there was a ship's captain that was familiar with tales of Cybertronian expatriates that frequented this particular pub, and according to the town's port authorities, the captain's ship, The Tidal Wave, was currently berthed there. Nightbeat entered the establishment and scanned the room. There were over a hundred different robots in there, despite the early hour, with wildly varied shapes and forms, but after only a few moments of scanning the room the detective was able to identify one that matched the description provided to him. Twenty-six feet tall, heavily built, mostly blue, bearded, with animalistic claws and spikes emerging from all over his body. Nightbeat approached the robot. "Excuse me, sir, are you Captain Thundertron?"

The robot continued staring into his drink as he replied. "You be very polite, and appear ta' speak the language of this world flawlessly, utilizin' the most popular dialect in this region. And of course, yer words lack any sense of flavor." The bearded robot slammed his drink down and looked up at Nightbeat. "Yer clearly not from around here, are ya' matey?"

Nightbeat nodded. "No, I'm not. I've traveled here looking for information, and you've been mentioned as someone that has some."

"Oh, an information seeker." Thundertron nodded for Nightbeat to take a seat at the table. "I be having plenty of information, though givin' it out has never been somethin' I been known to do."

"I can compensate you." The Cybertronian replied.

"With what, energon?" Thundertron chuckled at Nightbeat's surprise. "I know what ye be, just as you must know that what you need to survive is of very little use to the rest of us. Aye, a great source of energy, but that be about all it be to us."

"I recognize that, and have more to offer than just energon." Nightbeat replied. "Though you appear more Cybertronian than any other robot I've seen on this world, or anywhere outside of Cybertron for that matter."

The large robot's hand shot forward and gripped Nightbeat by the neck. "I'm nothin' like ye, or any other Cybertronian! You bastards commandeered me home, an outpost of nearly a thousand of me brethren, and you killed them all to build your empire!"

"Emp…ack!" Nightbeat struggled to speak through his quickly crushing throat, the fluids needed in his brain being stopped by the captain's iron grip. Thundertron gave one more squeeze before releasing Nightbeat. The detective struggled to regain his composure for a moment before speaking. "Empire? Cybertron has no empire. We've had no extraterrestrial aspirations for over one million years."

Thundertron glared at the Cybertronian for several moments before displaying a frightening grin. "You're a fool. Aye, ye may be telling the truth in that none of your conquests have been launched from Cybertron, but your cursed colonies have spread plenty of carnage in that time. Oh, the Galactic Council doesn't want to draw the connection between these worlds and their home world, but I know." Thundertron leaned in close and snarled at Nightbeat. "Believe me, I know from whence they came."

Nightbeat leaned back, holding up his hands in submission. "Look, Captain, I know nothing about these colonies. I'm in search of one ship, a ship that I have reason to believe was lost in the Benzuli Expanse."

"Har!" Thundertron roared. "The Benzuli Expanse? Ye be a fool if ye think anything can survive…" a look of deep thought came over the pirate's face.

"What?" Nightbeat pressed.

Thundertron looked into Nightbeat's optics for a moment before turning away and shaking his head. "It be nothing. Just old tales of a large ship showing up in scans of the anomaly's center. Scientists from Lithone studied it, and story is that some of their scans managed to penetrate to the core of the expanse where they saw what appeared to be the outline of a ship."

"Intact?" Nightbeat asked incredulously. "That can't be possible."

"It isn't!" Thundertron growled. "I'm not one to call a Lithone a liar, but they definitely be not above mistakes."

"What is a Lithone?" Nightbeat asked.

Thundertron looked around the bar and nodded to a slender robot with a disproportionately large head sitting at a table and imbibing what appeared to be an untainted energized drink. "They not be ones to frequent establishments like these, but establishments like these be all this town has for refreshment. They're weak, and devoid of anything I would call fun, but they be good and honest, and have never done harm to anyone; unlike you and your ilk!"

"Enough!" Nightbeat stood up. "Cybertron has no colonies, we are not an empire, and whoever destroyed your home was not answering to us!"

Thundertron leaned back and chucled. "See fer yerself. Go ye to the planet of Junk. They be rough, and wild, and not quite right, but they be yer kin. Scan em' and see. Same with Eukaris. They be covered in fur and scales and feathers, but underneath it all be metal powered by a spark shat out of Cybertron herself."

"Cybertron is not the only world to have produced spark-based life!" Nightbeat snapped. "The Big Bang produced many Omega caliber hyperdense energy clusters that formed planets around them. Our Vector Sigma is not unique."

"Aye," Thundertron nodded, tapping his own chest as he did so, "I be spark-based, but mine and yours be different. Yours, those of Junkions, those of Eukarians, those of Velocitronians, and even the monsters of Beest, they be the same. Run yer scans and see fer yerself. And there be other outposts where your kind has spread to, beyond just the planets originally seeded with yer accursed protoforms, displacing or eradicating native populations, changing the planet to suit their needs, and setting up processing plants to recreate that energon your kind so desperately needs. Well, not the Eukarians, they be using pink alchemy; altering themselves to convert organic matter into energy usable to their frames, but they still be invaders and butchers, especially those from Beest, the bastards that murdered me kin."

"Look, all of this is news to me, if we have off-world settlements, they haven't been reporting in since long before I came online. And even if you are telling the truth, you're not the one that should be crying injustice." The Cybertronian grumbled. "I've read your resume, Thundertron, and this respect for the sanctity of life you're trying to claim you have is a crock of shit. I've yet to take a life, but you, you've killed thousands!"

Thundertron smiled. "Aye, and if you called me a hypocrite, I would not be sayin' that ye be tellin' a lie. But the caliber of the accuser doesn't change the savagery of the crime."

"No, but it does call into question the guilt of the accused." Nightbeat replied.

"Hmmm, ye' not be a dummy." Thundertron replied almost amicably. "Tell me, whose in that ship ye' seek, and how did they find themselves in the dark expanse?"

Nightbeat studied the pirate for several moments before answering. "An ancient leader of ours. He set out on a mission of exploration and the opening of trade routes. How they got trapped in the Benzuli Expanse, I don't know."

Thundertron looked into Nightbeat's optics for several moments before nodding. "Exploration and the opening of trade routes. Do ye' actually believe that?"

Nightbeat broke away from Thundertron's gaze. "I did. I'm no longer so sure." He then looked back. "But it doesn't matter. Those on board are long dead. I mean only to retrieve their frames for internment and…" Nightbeat realized the folly of mentioning the item of value on the ship to a pirate, but also recognized that were there to be incentive for him, this Thundertron might prove to be useful in the retrieval. Ultimately he decided the risk of an outsider, especially one bearing so much hatred for Cybertron, laying claim to the Matrix was too great. "And to determine what happened."

Thundertron leaned forward and stared intensely at Nightbeat. "Despite yer origins, I bear ye' no ill will. See what yer histories have whitewashed, visit yer colonies, see the damage they've done. But I warn ye', if you do anything to try and salvage that craft, or if by some miracle…or an impressive display of resourcefulness this ancient leader still lives and ye' try to rescue him, I'll kill ye. And there'll be no hesitation when I do it. Yer accursed colonies were established in the millennia that preceded the loss of yer precious Guardian Prime," the pirate smiled at the surprise that came over Nightbeat's face, "yes, I'm well aware of who your ancient leader was, many a dyin' Cybertronian claimed he'd be returning to avenge them. His disappearance punctuated the end of yer' planet's expansion, and I be not one to believe in coincidences. The damage caused by yer world has been contained since his disappearance, and if he truly be in the dark expanse, then there he will stay til the end o' time."

Chromia

The darkness slowly faded away and the images of her surroundings slowly came into sharp clarity. A dark gray face beneath a red helmet with an odd yellow lens over the left part of the forehead was the first thing to come into view. The face smiled as it saw that she was back online. "Ah, welcome back. I hope you're feeling a bit better." Chromia could feel a tremendous reduction in the pain in her chest that had been overwhelming since…since the violation. Since that monster had torn her chest apart and pressed his exposed spark into hers, and then, after he had had enough, painfully bend her chest back into a position over her severely weakened spark. She had lost consciousness shortly after that, remembering the horrific agony, and only now awakening to note that while still painful, her chest was feeling vastly better than it had. "I've repaired the damage that Overlord caused in his lustful haste, and made modifications to allow easier access for him to conduct future acts of…love, shall we say."

"Mod…modifications?" Chromia looked down to see her chest. It looked much as it had, but she noticed almost imperceptible hinges and access dials. "No."

"It was either that or have him tear you apart whenever the mood hits him." The robot stepped back. "And from what I've observed, it hits him quite frequently. Just be thankful you're strong enough to endure it, many aren't." The robot, whose body was predominantly blue, walked over to the door and gave two heavy knocks before turning to face her again, a broad smile on his face. "The changes I made will also make it easier to access your inner workings for repairs, maintenance, and a myriad of other things. You're welcome."

The door opened and the thirty-six foot monster that had torn her open walked into the room, a massive smile spread across his massive face. "Hello Doctor Rossum," the beast looked over at her and stared her up and down, obvious lust on his horrible face, "once again, excellent work."

"Not so hard when the patient is as resilient as she is." Rossum replied. "But take it easy on her, she needs time to recover."

"Fine." The massive fiend walked over and placed his hand firmly on her shoulder, ignoring her wincing attempt to pull away from his touch. "But someday I'll find a femme with endurance and libido to match my own."

"Well, not likely anytime soon I'm afraid." Rossum replied as they walked out of the room they were in and into the main expanse of the warehouse. "You're made up of an exceptional amount of metallico, significantly enhanced surgically, and powered by what I'm all but certain is a spark of exceptional power."

Overlord chuckled as he directed Chromia toward a row of cages, some filled with other prisoners. Beyond them were over a dozen large crates, two of which were open revealing large plasma rifles, ion canons and even a fusion canon within them. "Perhaps someday I'll let you take a peek at it."

"That would be nice, but I'm no longer quite as eager to see as I was the last time we met." Rossum replied. "I've had the good fortune of seeing another up close."

"Another?" Overlord stopped, genuinely caught off guard by the doctor's statement. "There is no other like mine!"

Rossum turned and smiled at the giant, displaying no sign of fear or intimidation. "Well, as I've never seen or studied yours, I cannot say for sure. But the one in my lab was tremendously powerful. It would have easily powered a frame many times the size of the one it was in with complete comfort and full dexterity. The frame it was in is truly large, not nearly as large as yours, but very large, and the power it exuded was, well, let's just say he was the finest physical specimen I've ever worked on by a very wide margin."

"That's only because you've never worked on me." Overlord snapped, clearly annoyed.

"True." Rossum answered. "I'd be happy to change that if you'd like. Whoever did your armor and press enhancements did a phenomenal job, but I know that I can improve upon them. I may even be able to capitalize on and implement the remote influence you claimed to have had over your detached body parts during your previous procedure."

"What do you mean by that?" Overlord asked, intrigued.

"I theorize that certain very rare individuals might be able to have their shell separated into different pieces and still exert control over all parts." Rossum replied. "But I'm afraid that it's just theory at this point, and that my time here is coming to an end. I need to return to Castle Macht."

Overlord nodded and walked over to Rossum, opening up a screen on his wrist for the doctor to extract payment for his services from. Rossum withdrew a handheld device and held it over the wrist-screen. "Work for me full time Rossum, I pay you more than the Machts do."

Rossum chuckled as he finished his transaction and put the device away. "Even when that was true, which is hasn't been since the Machts began their patronage of gladiators and paying me for their upgrades, there was still the social standing of being the polyhistor to a ruling house."

"Polyhistor?" Overlord chuckled. "You're the most brilliant physician on the planet, but you're hardly an expert on anything outside of our anatomy."

Rossum shrugged. "I can't argue with that, but the Machts really don't care about my ability to do anything other than maintain them and enhance their select subjects."

"Like this other powerful spark bearing individual?" Overlord asked.

"Why Overlord, you sound jealous." Rossum chuckled. "Perhaps you should be. I was very impressed with this gladiator."

"He's a slave paid to die." Overlord replied, his casual demeanor returning despite the subject matter being what had irritated him only a short while before. "Good-bye doctor, another job well done."

"And good-bye to you as well." Rossum replied as he made his way to the door. Just as he reached the door it burst open, and two winged robots stumbled in carrying a barely stirring pink femme. Rossum laughed as they dragged her past him. "Ha! Very subtle. I'd stay as I'm guessing you'll be needing my services in the not so distant future, but unfortunately I have some things to take care of, so just message me when you're done with her, do what you need to do to keep her alive, and I'll get here when I can." With that Rossum exited the building.

"Hey boss, she was at Evicerator's asking about her blue friend there." The darkly colored one with the visor offered.

"Bitch hit me after finding Darkwing's Sheol's Bounty-face less than convincing." The predominantly white one said.

"Took four charges to put her down, and we had to slap her with another on the way here." Darkwing added.

Overlord looked down at Chromia and smiled. "So what's your friend's name?"

Chromia looked up into his optics in confused terror, then down at the barely conscious pink femme. "I…I don't know her. I have no idea who she is?"

"Then why would she be asking about you?" Overlord asked skeptically.

"I don't know." Chromia replied. "I swear I've never seen her before."

"I think you're lying." Overlord said, turning to look the pink femme over. "She's actually very attractive too. I think I'll take her now, and you're going to watch me do it."

"No, no please." Chromia pleaded, looking from her massive captor, to her fellow captive and repeatedly back and forth. "Don't hurt her, she's done nothing to you."

"She struck my employee Dreadwind." Overlord countered.

"She cut my face too." Darkwing added.

"See," Overlord continued without taking his optics off of Chromia, "she has this coming."

"Don't make me watch you do this to her." Chromia begged. "Please, don't do this." Overlord reached down and grabbed her by her upper arm, dragging her across the floor to the stirring pink stranger and grabbing her by the arm as well. He then dragged them both back across the warehouse toward the room where he had violated Chromia before. "Nooo!"

"Darkwing, Dreadwind, as you can see, we've received a new cache of firearms," Overlord called out as he reached the room, "see that they're stored properly and are ready to ship out to our dealers on time."

"Of course sir, have fun." Darkwing replied.

Overlord flung the pink femme onto the slab in the center of the room, then dragged Chromia over to the wall where several pairs of shackles were mounted. Chromia grunted in pain as Overlord hoisted her up by her arms and effortlessly held her in place as he positioned the clamps on her wrists, then released her to let her dangle against the wall. "I was gentle with you. You're about to see how brutal this act can truly be." Overlord smiled cruelly before turning and marching over to the pink robot struggling to lift herself off the slab. "Coming around, are we? Good." With barely a noticeable effort, the monstrous criminal slapped the prisoner back down on to the slab. "I want you to be absolutely aware of what I am doing to you. I would prefer that you survive this, but in all likelihood, you won't. I'm not going to be gentle."

"No, leave her alone!" Chromia demanded, losing her fear of the behemoth.

"Daaa…don't talk." The pink femme finally spoke, looking bravely toward Chromia. "Don't make it worse for yourself."

"Who are you?" Chromia asked, but the femme was unable to answer as Overlord grabbed her shoulders and slammed her down hard against the top of the slab. "Stop!"

Overlord's head whipped back and he snarled at Chromia. "Shut up and watch, or I'll take you again once I'm done with her!" His warning delivered, he turned back to the pink femme.

"No." Overlord's optics widened in anger for just a moment as he whipped back around to face Chromia, but realized instantly that the cry had not come from her; it had not even originated in that room. "No, he'll find us, he'll catch us." The voice, while raised, was barely audible in the room.

Chromia watched the massive criminal march to the door and throw it open, then saw a smile spread over the monster's face. "Officer Pax I presume?"

"You are the one they call the Overlord?" A deep voice replied.

"It is the only name I've gone by in a very long time." Overlord answered cordially.

"Then Overlord, you are under arrest." The voice responded authoritatively, eliciting a laugh from Overlord.

"I received a call letting me know that you'd be poking around sooner or later, Officer Pax." Overlord replied in a friendly manner. "It wasn't so much a warning as a notification that you were fair game. This made me curious."

"We can discuss your curiosity at the precinct house." The voice interrupted. "For now you are to tell me where you have the two femmes and submit to apprehension."

Overlord began laughing lightly again. "Pinky is on the slab." The massive robot reached over, grabbed the chains Chromia was hanging from, and yanked them over, snapping the links connecting her to the wall and holding her next to him for the officer to see. "Pretty little Chromia is right here as you can see."

Chromia looked up into the warehouse to see a large red, blue and silver robot standing next to several of the other captives, all now freed from their cages with the exception of one, despite the door to his cage being open. The robot content to remain captive looked to Overlord with terrified optics and pled. "My lord, please, I did not request to be freed. I only wish to serve." The other former captives were quickly making their way past the unconscious Darkwing and Dreadwind toward the door and through it to freedom.

"Your obedience has been noted." Overlord replied dismissively. "I'll advertise it to all prospective buyers, it should up your price a bit I suppose."

"Obedience born out of terror." The officer snarled.

"Does it really matter?" Overlord snapped back. "The sale will have long been final before any sort of courage and disobedience creeps into his pathetic frame."

"I think you're delusional about the bargaining position you'll have while in a penal colony." Pax replied.

"Oooo…Orion," The pink femme called out weakly as she dropped from the table and landed on her wobbly feet, "geh…get out of here."

"So you're with the cop." Overlord turned just enough to look at her with one optic. "I'm going to tear you wide, bitch."

"You're coming with me!" Orion growled and started marching in their direction.

Overlord turned back to look at him and sighed in annoyance as he raised his wrist to his mouth. "Skullcruncher, bring everyone in here. We have a pest." Seconds later six robots came charging in from the north section of the warehouse. "Where's everyone else?"

"Slow day boss, sent some guys home." Skullcruncher replied as he jogged to the area between his boss and the wary intruder with his five cohorts. "Who's this guy?"

"Cop. We've gotten the OK to kill him, hell, it was a request to kill him, but I want him alive." Overlord answered. "Take him down however you wish, but that little blue ember in his chest had better still be glowing when you're done with him."

"Heh." The pink captive weakly chuckled. When Overlord turned to face her she smiled at him as she took on a fighting stance. "I am starting to get my bearings, and now I'm going to kick the shit out of you."

Overlord chuckled as he tossed Chromia toward the corner dismissively. "I want to hate you pinky, but I've never been this turned on before." A lightning quick backhand sent her crashing to the floor. The sounds of weapons fire erupted from the main warehouse area as Chromia squirmed around and leaned against the corner walls, watching in terror as Overlord hovered over the other female. "I absorb the energy and essences of a femme's spark, it goes both ways to a degree, but my sheer power is such that while temporarily disoriented, I come away more powerful from the mingling. Like with the disorientation, the high is very temporary, and provided they survive whatever damage is done to my lady's spark heals fully, but it frequently takes a long time to do so. But despite the brutality of it all, I've never fully absorbed or drained a spark, and I've never disrespected my lady enough to do it in front of an audience." Overlord reached down and grabbed her by the arm. "Today, I'm doing both! I'm going to suck every trace of your life force into mine, and this blue bitch, my boys and your subdued boyfriend are all going to watch me do it!"

"Shit, keep him away from the weapons' crates!" The voice of Skullcruncher yelled out over the gunfire from the next room.

"That cargo is worth more than any of you!" Overlord roared as he once more turned away from his pink victim, his every movement a reflection of his annoyance at his goons being able to handle the police officer as quickly and efficiently as he felt appropriate. That annoyance immediately turned to rage as he fully took in what was going on through the open door. "Damn it, keep him away…" an explosion erupted, eliciting a snarl from the massive crime lord. "That crate was worth more than one hundred thousand shanix! The most value I'd assign to any one of you is thrity…forty thousand tops!"

"Primus, he's still moving!" An unknown voice yelled out.

"You moron's didn't even slow him down!" Overlord bellowed. "Do NOT blow up another crate!" The giant folded his arms and watched the goings on with intense interest, and a slowly growing sense of amusement. "Come on Gutcruncher, you can…ouch. Poor, poor Gutcruncher." The large robot chuckled ominously. "Who is this guy?" Overlord mused quietly as he watched the fight with unrestrained enjoyment. A pink flurry of attacks landed against his upper back and the back of his head, attacks potent enough to send him stumbling forward a couple of steps. Chromia looked up at the face of Overlord as he turned, still grinning broadly, and looked down upon his assailant. "Fantastic! I really like your spirit, Pinky!" Chromia could take no more, and charged forward as well, hands still chained together, but with enough slack that she could put up a good fight and help out this pink femme and the red and blue cop. She lunged into Overlord's midsection with everything she had. Unfortunately it was like slamming into a ten foot thick slab of cybertronium, and she bounced back against the immovable object. "Et tu, Chromia?" Overlord snarled, and swatted her to the ground.

"Overlord!" The deep voice of the police officer called out. "Is this REALLY all you have for me?" Chromia, being carefully lifted up by the pink femme raised her optics and looked beyond Overlord out into the warehouse at a heavily scorched but otherwise healthy-looking Orion Pax standing amidst a chaotic mess of debris and unconscious henchmen. "Because if it is, your reputation is severely overblown."

"Heh heh heh." Overlord chuckled ominously. "I'm a bit understaffed today, but even with that I expect better of my crew. Rest assured, punishments are in order."

"Release the femmes and I'll consider leaving you to it." Orion snapped back. "Otherwise I'll be dragging your ass back to the precinct house. And once the evidence here is collected, your conviction and a painfully long sentence will be assured."

A hard look came over Overlords face, made all the more terrifying by the smile that was still held in place. "You'll be dragging my ass?" The massive crime lord turned his head so that one optic locked onto the pink femme's face. "Wait here, this will only take a minute." With that he started marching out toward the police officer.

"Chromia," the pink femme whispered, "my name is Elita, I'm here to get you out of here. Once Orion has Overlord distracted we're going to make a break for it. Do you understand?"

"We'll never make it." Chromia whispered back. "Overlord will destroy him."

"In all likelihood, yes." Elita replied. "But Orion is more powerful than he seems, trust me on this. He might catch Overlord off guard, and he will definitely demand the bastard's focus for more than a few moments. Enough time to get you…" At that moment the door was thrown open and five robots came charging in.

"Ah, just in time!" Overlord called out. "Guard the bitches while I brutalize this piece of shit. Feel free to shoot them in any non-vital body part, especially the pink one. In fact, don't engage them up close, they'd probably take you pussies hand to hand."

"You need to focus on me, Overlord." Pax snapped at the giant criminal.

"Oh believe me, Officer Pax, you have my undivided attention." Overlord growled as he cut the distance between them. "Your boss wants you dead, I want to know why that is, so while you'll wish it wasn't the case, I will be refraining from killing you right away." With that Overlord lunged at the intruder, but Orion twisted away to the left. Overlord swung wildly at the retreating police officer, but Orion ducked and stepped away to put a bit more distance between then. "Ohhh, you're a quick one."

"Yeah, I hear that a lot." Orion replied, and this time he lunged in, delivering a left cross that landed squarely against Overlord's jaw that forced the giant to stumble back a couple steps.

More startled than anything else, Overlord brought his hand to his jaw and a smile began spreading across his face as he stared back at Orion. "Where have you been all my life?" With that he charged after the much smaller robot, throwing punch after punch, most evaded by the exceptionally fast Pax, some blocked or absorbed by his arms, but a few landing. Despite the amazing power of the shots, Orion remained upright and alert, and after several moments, he stopped backpedalling, planted his feet and landed several shots of his own. Overlord landed an overhand right that sent Pax down to his knees, but the young officer used his left knee as a pivot point to spin and land a right sidekick to Overlord's left knee, causing it to buckle and force the giant stumbling back.

"Damn boy, you come in here with nothing but your birthday suit and a meaningless badge and give me the best go I've ever had!" Overlord called out almost joyfully as they both straightened up. "Slag Momus! Slag torturing you! How would you like a job? Pay's great, just ask anyone, and I'll give you the best presses and armor money can buy. Hell, you just missed my doctor, best anatomical enhancer on the slaggin' planet! Just be a cop, look the other way with my crew, and lock horns with me from time to time for shits and giggles – don't worry, I'll fix you up better than new after each go. Whaddya say?"

Orion Pax looked up at the criminal. "That's a generous offer, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to decline."

"Bastard!" Overlord roared as he swiped his massive arm out and swatted Orion across the room, his frame skipping across the floor and landing next to one of the crates. "Do you have any idea of the offer I just made you? You'd get rich just to turn your head and offer me a challenge from time to time!"

"A challenge?" Orion replied as he got to his feet. "You want to push your limits, find the best and beat them; you want to be the baddest on the planet. One giant bragging right." The young officer swung out and smashed the closest crate open, allowing all the weapons inside of it to spill out onto the floor. He looked them over, finally reaching down, bypassing a fusion canon, and picking up an ion canon. He turned back to Overlord and directed the rifle at him. "I could not care less about bragging rights. I came here to rescue your prisoners and take you into custody." Orion gave the crime lord a long look. "I guess I'll have to arrest you another time." With that Orion pumped a round into each of Overlord's shoulders and then one into each of his knees.

The giant endured the shots without so much as a grunt, but they cut easily through his armor and caused significant damage to his joints, causing each movement to be extremely painful and slow. The wounds made it impossible for him to stop Orion from turning the weapon on his henchmen and picking them off with debilitating but non-lethal shots, and then sprinting forward toward the room with the two femmes in it.

Chromia watched as Orion had the weapon pointed in their general direction and then countless rounds fired at them. At least it seemed as though their savior was firing at them, but the rounds zipped past them and through the wall behind them, tearing it to shreds. Chromia turned to look at the perforated wall, and was caught off guard as she was lifted suddenly and forcefully from the ground and hoisted over Orion Pax's shoulder, Elita planted on the other shoulder. A second later they were all blasted through the nearly destroyed wall, Chromia grunting through the pain of the impact and turning just in time to see the surface of the river rushing up at them. A moment later they were submerged, and she saw the officer's powerful blue legs pumping hard to drive them down and then out toward the center of the river, farther away from the shore.

They cut through the depths with impressive speed, eventually breaching the surface and climbing on shore several miles upstream. "Are you two alright?" Orion asked as he gently set the two of them on the ground.

Elita leaned over and looked deeply into Chromia's optics. "Are you OK?"

Chromia started to say yes, but her voice got caught in her throat. Wildly varying emotions came crashing in all at once. All the hopefulness, hopelessness, fear, anger, feelings of self-loathing for getting taken, feelings of hatred for Overlord and those that took her, the utter desperation; all of it came crashing in on her, coupled with the memories of what had been done to her. "No." She squeaked out and began weeping, wrapping her arms around Elita, and feeling the arms of the pink femme embracing her as well. She sobbed into the stranger's shoulder, her body heaving as it all came out.

"Can I…" she heard Orion say in confusion, "is there anything…"

"No." Elita replied. "Thank you, but no." Elita pulled Chromia's head back and looked into her optics. "I am Elita of House Solus, the ruling house of Axiom. You are welcome to return to my home, you will be safe there, I promise." All Chromia could do was nod and bury her face back into Elita's shoulder.

"I…I apologize if sounds…insensitive, but we should get you to your transport as quickly as possible." She heard Orion once again hesitantly stammer. He had no idea of how to handle this situation. While he hadn't been told of what had happened to her, he knew. How could he not know? But despite that, he didn't know how to react. Chromia didn't know how to react. Ultimately, there was no good way to react to this situation, but Orion was right, they needed to keep moving. "I can carry her, or you, or both of you. I…I can do whatever, but we need to go."

Chromia looked up at Orion, as did Elita. The robot was looking down on them with an apologetic gaze, almost expecting to be reprimanded, but Elita's voice was soft and consoling. "Yes, you're right, we need to get moving." She stood up, helping Chromia to her feet in the process. "I see the wheels on your frame, is your alternate mode functional?"

"Good idea, but I transmitted a message to Ratchet while we were swimming." Orion mentioned. "He'll be picking us up on the roadside momentarily."

Elita gave Orion a look of genuine gratitude. "That was good thinking, thank you." The two shared a smile. "How were you able to pry him away from his clinic?"

Orion chuckled as he waved the two femmes to walk ahead of him and followed behind them. "His grumpiness is primarily show. If there's a way for him to help, he'll help." The red and blue officer then shrugged. "And I may have offered to give him a free set of hands for six hours after my shift ends at the precinct."

"Torenia would be proud." Elita replied. "Well, prouder. She already thinks quite highly of you."

"I hope so." Orion replied as they reached the road and waited for Ratchet's transport to arrive. "I owe her everything."

Elita nodded. "I thought she was making a mistake when she found you." She looked over and noted the look of shock in Orion's optics. "Today at Ratchet's clinic wasn't the first time we met." She turned and faced him directly. "I was on the boat with Torenia when it sank. I made it to Isla Avalonius, I set out to find her, and I saw…I saw your birth. Your spark pulling material that had no right to be in a frame and force life into it. I was with her, I watched the love she already possessed for you grow into a force that made her defy the law and traditions to make sure you would be safe. I thought it was a mistake; it clearly wasn't. I'm proud of my friend for making such a courageous choice, and she should be proud of what her son has become." Chromia was utterly confused by the details of the conversation, but she could see the police officer melting under the gaze of her new pink friend.

A moment later a transport pulled to a stop in front of them. "Well," an old white and red robot barked at them, "you guys coming or what?"


	7. Chapter 7

Ultra Magnus

The five factory owners, three of which possessing multiple manufacturing plants, and the four plant managers representing facilities with owners less willing or able to deal with their business's concerns, were waiting in the lobby for an opportunity to meet with the new Emir of the Tagan Heights. The massive royal now entering the lobby nodded to them as the door behind him slid shut and would have prayed that they leave him alone and save their grievances for the Emir had he been the praying type. Ultimately he knew that with or without divine intervention, such a hope was too great. As if to tease him, the visiting captains of industry remained silent as he passed through the room, allowing him to nearly reach the door on the opposite end before…"Lord Magnus, a word please?"

Ultra Magnus stopped, allowed himself a grimace before smoothing his facial features and turning to face the industrial magnate that had called out to him. "Highbrow, it is good to see you again. I assume you are here to see the Emir and address your liege lord's interests in the industrial quadrant."

"Why yes sir, we are all here to address concerns related to the industry of the Tagan Heights." The blue and white robot replied, waving over the other robots present. "We have all been here for hours, but your royal kinsman has been attending to his newfound…religiosity."

"Bah, religion!" Another robot grumbled while facing away from them. "Mythological nonsense used by a witch to hypnotize our young leader into doing her bidding."

The optics of Highbrow and every other visitor in the room stretched wide. "My lord, that opinion is most assuredly not shared by…"

"Don't worry." Ultra Magnus interrupted. "It is not the first time I've heard such an opinion. I will talk to Delta Magnus now to see when he will be able to meet with you, and hopefully to dispel such concerns that he is under the sway of anyone, witch or otherwise." With that the hulking robot took the opportunity to walk through the door and leave the room. He marched down the hallway toward the voices he heard ahead.

"Primus, the lord of light, order and creation, has chosen you." A feminine voice flowed out of the doorway at the end of the hall. "I have sensed the greatness within you. A greatness that I have never felt before. It is you that is destined to be the Prime of Salvation, the Devourer of the Devourer, the Eroder of Chaos. Why are you so resistant to accept this fact?"

"There is already a Prime, and I am honor-bound to serve him loyally." The familiar voice of Delta Magnus emerged, his contradictory tone a welcome sound to Ultra who was just reaching the room.

"A Prime chosen by a corrupt senate." The voice replied as Ultra Magnus turned into the room, the sweet, musical voice belonging to an exceptionally tall femme garbed in flowing pliable metal capes molded to her shoulders. "Sentinel Honorum lacks the honor, integrity, and most importantly, he lacks a spark that burns with the very fires of Primus himself, a spark that I can feel pulsing deep within you. The Matrix would never choose one such as him, but you, you are the one that it was created to bond with."

"I do not recall the Prime's of old requiring an ignis superius in order to be chosen by the matrix." Ultra Magnus offered with unconcealed skepticism from the doorway. "Though I suppose discussing any required prerequisites for bonding with it is moot, as it was unfortunately lost long before the one it was apparently created to bond with was born."

Delta Magnus looked past the priestess, a priestess that was two feet taller than he and his equally massive kinsman, and smiled. "Hello Ultra. Is there something I can help you with?"

"There are nine individuals representing the interests of our manufacturing sector in the front solarium, and they have been waiting there several hours to meet with the newly chosen Emir." Ultra Magnus replied. "I underst… I respect your desire to find religion, my liege, but your new position comes with responsibilities that greatly limit your free time."

"I really wish you would not call me your liege." Delta Magnus responded. "Had I known you would start doing that I never would have accepted the nomination last month."

"You are the Emir of the Tagan Heights now." Ultra Magnus countered. "It is the proper way to address you. I also have a matter of my own to discuss with you…when you're done with the Mistress of Flame."

"It is the Lord Primus that has business with your Emir," the tall femme replied with a not entirely warm smile, "I am merely his mouthpiece."

"Well if Lord Primus and his mouthpiece would not mind, I would like to discuss an official matter with the Emir." Ultra Magnus replied keeping his gaze on Delta Magnus.

"By all means, speak your mind brother, but the Mistress of Flame stays." Delta Magnus replied, smiling graciously at Ultra. "She has become a trusted advisor, and provides perspectives unknown to others."

Ultra Magnus turned and looked the tall priestess over warily, but after a long pause nodded and decided to continue. "I wish for the Tagan Heights to formally protest the planned execution of the Autobots that attacked Sentinel Prime."

Delta Magnus's optics widened in surprise. "Planned execution? I was unaware that they had even gotten around to the trial yet."

"Exactly." Ultra Magnus replied. "While held in the presence of senators, it was virtually a secret until after the verdict and sentence had been handed down."

"That's not due process." Delta Magnus muttered quietly, looking down deep in thought as he did so.

"Exactly." Ultra Magnus punctuated, growing excited as his kinsman seemed to be readopting his passion and respect for the law.

"A matter to be addressed informally with the Prime," the Mistress of Flame chimed in, "but there is nothing to be gained from a formal protest. Ultimately they are but commoners; commoners that strive to remove your rightful authority over them."

"I do not wish to champion their cause, Mistress." Ultra Magnus chimed in. "But capital trials have criteria that needs to be met, and in this case that criteria was ignored."

"They attacked the Prime," Delta snapped, "it's difficult to feel sorry for them, much less initiate a protest on their behalf."

"They attacked with glue canons." Ultra growled. "Punishment is due, execution most definitely is not."

"I disagree." The Mistress of Flames calmly replied. "An attack on the Prime, even an unworthy Prime, is more than just an assault on an individual, it's an assault on the symbol of all we hold sacred. The Prime is a representation of our ties to Primus himself."

"I guess we'll agree to disagree about the justice of it;" Ultra Magnus replied tersely, "justice is more a passion of the Pax's anyway. But House Magnus has always been a champion of law, and in this case the law has been circumvented!" Ultra then turned to his Emir. "And this is not the first time Sentinel Prime has attempted to bypass due process to serve his own agenda. Were it not for the illegal distribution of footage by the comrades of the condemned, a noble and law abiding commoner would be languishing in prison right now for doing nothing more than his job." The younger powerhouse took a step toward Delta before continuing in a quieter voice. "Tell me you weren't enraged by what he tried to do to Orion. And when thwarted, what they did manage to do to him."

"The Emir must choose his battles." The Mistress of Flame spoke out. "There will be a time to challenge the pretender, but this is not the time."

"Sentinel Prime is bypassing the laws to serve his personal needs and desires with increasing frequency." Ultra Magnus countered, still staring at his kinsman. "This is a battle that House Magnus must engage in."

Delta Magnus met Ultra's stare and held it for several moments before turning to the Mistress of Flames and locking optics with her. He finally turned back to Ultra. "What Sentinel Prime is doing is wrong, I agree brother, but we must not lose sight of the big picture." Delta turned and walked away from his kinsman toward the Mistress of Flame. "If sacrifices must be made to ensure the true destiny of our planet, then so be it." Delta was quiet for a few seconds before finishing. "The Tagan Heights will take no official stance on these proceedings at this time."

Ultra Magnus stared in disbelief at the back of his kinsman's head for several moments before noting the grin on the face of the Mistress of Flame. "An official protest has already been issued by House Pax. I will add my name to theirs. I will make it clear that I stand on my own, and do not represent House Magnus."

"You will not." Delta replied without turning around. "I forbid you from doing so."

"You forbid me?" Ultra replied, shock evident in his voice, but he bit his metal lip and nodded. "As you command, my liege."

"Send in the representatives of the industrial sector."

Nightbeat

The blue and yellow robot waited patiently in the pilot seat of his small, but exceptionally well-equipped spacecraft as it hovered in orbit over a dense jungle world, the green and blue only interrupted by the cloud cover. After several moments a voice came through the speaker. "What do you have for me?"

"Greetings Prime, I apologize for the delay in my reporting, it's just that the Galactic Council seems very interested in what I may have to say to you, so I've had to go a bit out of my way to be sure I can send this without it getting intercepted or overheard." Nightbeat explained.

"Fine, just tell me what you've learned." Sentinel Prime's voice impatiently replied.

"Just two things of note. First, I've uncovered a brief note regarding the Manifest archived deep within the Galactic Council's files, something that they tried to hide from me. Secondly, I made contact with a pirate who accused Guardian Prime, apparently quite accurately, of setting about in an attempt to colonize other worlds, and with the exception of the Junk planet, have in part or in whole displaced the native life forms of those worlds." The detective reported. "I'm currently over a world called Eukaris, perhaps the least intrusive occupation on Cybertron's part, aside from the previously uninhabited planet of Junk where we set up a colony. Our Eukarian cousins seem to have developed their society without too much impact to the native flora and fauna…though that may be in part due to the lack of higher level life forms on this world."

"Am I supposed to give a shit about the native life forms?" Sentinel's voice snapped back. "Are they even mechanical?"

"Not on Eukaris, but we've colonized mechanical worlds." Nightbeat replied. "As to why you should care, Guardian Prime doing a lot more than just exploration and diplomacy caught the attention of other species, and knowing that his ventures out into space started far earlier and utilized far more in the way of manpower and resources than we believed could raise questions that we would be well served having answers for. There are armies out there on our unknown colonies, armies consisting of what appears to be pre-existing Cybertronians and protoforms birthed on these worlds. All of which lends credence to the archived text I found within the Galactic Council databases. The only truly solid piece of evidence pertaining to the Manifest's fate."

"And…?"

"Forwarding to you now, my Prime." Nightbeat pressed a button to send the message. "Basically someone claiming to be Primon sent a warning not to seek out the Manifest in the Benzuli Expanse. Of course, Primon had been dead for some time by that point…"

"Primon?" Sentinel gasped, and Nightbeat noticed that his reaction wasn't how he had anticipated. He had expected Sentinel's voice to convey a large degree of skepticism, but this reaction was as though the Prime genuinely believed this to be a legitimate possibility. "You're certain?"

"You're in possession of the message, that's all I have to go on. It provides a location, granted, an extremely vast location, as well as a motive, provided there's any veracity to the author's claims." Nightbeat replied before pressing. "Is there something regarding Primon's fate that the common people lack awareness of?"

There was a pause before Prime's swift, dismissive reply. "No, of course not. Primon was long dead. Tell me what you know of the Benzuli Expanse!"

"Almost impossible to quantify, it's basically an enormous pocket in space where all but the tiniest few attempts to scan have come back fruitless." Nightbeat answered. "But a race called the Lithone have managed to conduct a few deep scans into the expanse, and one of these scans came back indicating an object of roughly the dimensions and mass of the Manifest was deep within."

"Primus, you've found it!" Sentinel Prime gasped.

"Well, Your Grace, I'm not so sure." Nightbeat replied. "I've taken the data and brought it before over two dozen experts on the subject matter, and all of them came back with the same conclusion that my own estimates led me to; it's not physically possible for the ship to be there. At least, not without being obliterated."

"Well obviously Primon was smarter than these experts of yours!" Prime snapped back. "Alpha Trion was regarded as the greatest scientist of his age, of perhaps any age!"

Nightbeat was a little taken aback by Prime's apparent acceptance of the message-sender's claimed identity, but withheld a reaction to it. "That very well may be true, but I get the feeling that this may be a red herring."

"A red herring?" Prime replied. "OK, maybe you're right, maybe you're not. Follow the Benzuli Expanse possibility all the way through to the end before looking into other places that it could have been leading you away from should it not pan out."

"Your Grace, there's really no way for me to follow this through." Nightbeat replied. "And even if there were some way to confirm it being there, there's no way for me to gain entry to obtain the Matrix."

"If it's there, then somebody figured out a way to get it there!" Prime snapped. "Find their footsteps and then follow them!"

"Alright, my Prime, but should it prove to be a false lead, know that I'm pretty much back to square one with finding the Manifest." Nightbeat responded.

"I was informed that you were the best detective we had!" Prime snarled. "Obviously that's not the case if you have nothing to show for the investment of time, resources and faith I've devoted to you. Accomplish your mission, or don't bother coming back!"

Nightbeat quietly sighed. "Understood, your Grace. Nightbeat out." He reached forward and flipped off the channel.

Soundwave

Scrapper's construction team had been reluctant to accept this assignment initially, but that apprehension had clearly passed as Soundwave watched them enact their carefully crafted plan of utilizing local materials to construct the modules that would be used to form the arena that the evening's contests would be held in. The designs were brilliant, simple shapes that connected in specific ways to create the larger, fairly complex structure; and then, once the event was over and the structure deserted, it was easily destroyed, looking like nothing more than large piles of rubbish, a common site in these minor Polyhexian cities. This particular occasion was the first true test of the disposable structures, so there was no shortage of apprehension about whether they would be strong enough to hold the crowds, yet light and pliable enough to be dismantled without leaving a trace as to its true purpose or designers. But the primary designer, Hook of House Narkissos, was beyond confident his designs would work flawlessly.

Members of House Narkissos were typically arrogant, and Hook was no exception. But unlike most of the members of that ancient House, one that according to legend was perhaps the most powerful and influential House on Cybertron prior to the rise of the Knights and the Houses they sired, Hook's arrogance had merit. He truly was brilliant, perhaps the most skilled designer on the planet, and a prodigy at the healing arts as well. His attitude of entitlement and superiority, sometimes even displayed against members of the royal House of Torrent, would have likely gotten him killed, or at least punished until a large degree of humility had been driven into him, were his skills not such as to make him invaluable to the descendants of Knight Fluctus. The greatest recent structures in Harmonex were due in some part to him, so his arrogance was tolerated…thus far. And his associate Scrapper, another noble of the less ancient and impressive House Masonus, knew his place and provided his betters with their due respect, asking only for their patience when dealing with Hook. His humility had purchased Hook many a pardon.

"My lord?" Scrapper called out as he approached Soundwave. Despite genuinely enjoying his talks with the low noble, Soundwave was annoyed at the approach; he wished to speak with Megatron as soon as was possible, but he had no valid reason not to speak with Scrapper.

"Yes Scrapper?"

"My lord, I would like to once again thank you for this opportunity. The payment is, well, it's exceptional." Scrapper addressed him gratefully before taking a more hesitant tone. "But there is another matter that I feel I need to discuss with you."

"Yes, what is it?" The impatient Soundwave replied.

"As you know, your kinsman Shockwave has been conducting research on the sparks of my crew and I, what he has referred to as an affinity of sorts for each other that enables us to be more productive or something." Scrapper explained. "So far it's just been spark scans, us doing stuff on our own, then doing stuff with each other nearby, and that sort of thing; and based on what I've seen, I'm convinced he may be on to something. But he's suggesting, almost insistently, that the only way to progress his hypothesis is to conduct alterations to our frames to see if physical integration between us can push the output of our sparks to even higher levels, and frankly, that's not something any of us are comfortable with."

Though he truly did not wish to get in the way of Shockwave or his experiments, Soundwave also did not wish to compromise the asset that Scrapper's team represented. "I will speak with Shockwave. For now, focus on the task at hand."

"Thank you, my lord." Scrapper gratefully replied before turning back to the fabrication of the temporary arena.

Soundwave continued on toward Megatron just up ahead past several other gladiators, handlers and other individuals linked to the fight circuit. Megatron turned and smiled at the noble approaching him. "Greetings Lord Soundwave, it is good to see you again."

Soundwave nodded, a feeling of discomfort coming over him at hearing the magnificent gladiator refer to him as lord. Despite the circumstances of their respective births and subsequent societal standings, it seemed more appropriate for Soundwave to be submissively addressing Megatron as such. "Megatron, I request a word, if you please."

"Of course my friend." Megatron replied, gently placing his hand on Soundwave's shoulder and directing him away from the bustle of preparing for the fighting tournament. Once far enough away from anyone to avoid being overheard, Megatron continued. "What's on your mind Soundwave?"

"My Lord…" Soundwave began unconsciously, but realizing what he said he looked up to an also surprised Megatron. After a moment Soundwave continued with an explanation. "We play our roles in public, but I fully recognize which of us is greater, and not only do I accept that, I embrace it. I do have a high opinion of myself, my worth derived from my abilities and potential contributions, but I acknowledge that you might very well be the greatest of us. In public we must play our roles, but in the absence of others, I pledge myself to you."

Though a ground shaking admission for their society, Megatron was not altogether stunned to hear it, and aside from his initial optic-stretch at hearing himself referred to as lord, he made no show of surprise. "You recognize that such a statement could lead to your ostracism, and likely much worse for me."

"It is merely the stating of a fact, but yes, I realize that in this very flawed world of ours, actions to squash such a sentiment would come quickly and harshly were it to get out." Soundwave replied. "Prior to meeting you, I would likely have championed the squashing, but having encountered a commoner who is greater than…anyone I have ever known, I find my worldview shifted significantly. Only one other has come close to you in my estimation, and he attained his impressiveness in large part to the resources his high birth granted him. You…your greatness is attributable solely to you. I only wish to know how you plan to direct your greatness, and what role I can play in serving that goal."

Megatron peered deeply into Soundwave's joined optic quietly for several seconds before responding. "I wish to destroy this society of ours. The idea of a pecking order based on the location of birth is…" Megatron shook his head in disgust, "absurd. But I am no Autobot either. They fight for equality for all, but all are not equal and therefore should not be treated as such. The exceptional are of far greater value than the mean, and those sub-average individuals are a detriment and should be removed. A multitude of traits can contribute to one's overall value; strength, intelligence, speed, endurance, courage and so on. I am not so myopic as to elevate only the strong, or only the smart; but I will look at the overall contribution one can make when determining their place in our new society, and the mediocre, no matter what pit they emerged from, will likely not have a place in it." Megatron gave a small smile and a chuckle. "Or perhaps cannon fodder as we fight to create this society. As to what role you will play, I'm not entirely sure yet, but being a high noble that I trust completely will be immensely valuable to our cause early on, and that trust as well as your intellect and astounding abilities will keep you at my side going forward after that." Megatron then shrugged. "But we are still just planning our initial steps, there is a long way to go before we tear this world asunder."

Soundwave paused for a moment. "I've heard similar philosophies."

Megatron nodded as they both looked out over the bustle of the quickly forming arena. "Oh, from where?"

"From the only other Cybertronian that has come close to you in my estimation." Soundwave replied. "My kinsman Shockwave."

Megatron nodded. "Perhaps he and I should meet."

Sentinel Prime

"Your Grace, I have Prowl waiting on the line for you."

Sentinel Prime raised his optics from the prototype fusion rifle schematics on the data pad in his hand to look upon the sleek long orange legs of his personal assistant. His optics traveled up, over her shapely white torso, admiring her orange arms, upper chest and neck, the golden protrusions coming off her orange head, and her beautiful face, with large blue optics peering adoringly back at him. "Thank you Bayonet, I'll take it in my office." Prime gazed upon her a bit more, she was stunning to look at, but completely devoid of any real substance. Being the Prime meant that he could hire whoever for whatever he pleased, and he was taking full advantage of that perk. He finally pulled his optics from her, entering his office and signaling for the door to shut behind him. He marched over, sat at his desk and paused a moment before opening the communication channel. "What is it Prowl?"

"Excuse my subterfuge, but I'm afraid that if I told your assistant who I really was, she wouldn't put me through." The familiar voice emerged through the desk-top speaker.

Prime glared at the small communications array for a moment before replying. "I suppose I should be thankful you opted for a call rather than to surprise me in person like you did last time, Primon."

"I gather from the sarcasm in your voice, as well as your subtle yet obvious attempts to get Orion Pax killed, that you still doubt my claims." A-Three's voice responded.

"I have doubts, though I haven't dismissed your claims." Sentinel Prime relaxed, and even adopted a genuine smile. "While I've been seriously entertaining the possibility that you're telling the truth, I'm still not convinced that you're the real Primon the Abdicator. Oh, I know that you are old, well older than I am, that you are exceptionally resourceful, and that you've adopted the identity of Primon long before meeting me. But whatever the case may be, A-Three, Polyhistor of Tyger Pax, I'm glad that you contacted me."

"Oh, why is that?" The annoyed voice replied.

"We have much to discuss." Prime replied. "In our last meeting I was at a bit of a loss, having been caught totally off guard, having no knowledge of you or anything about you, and having been physically immobilized. To say you had me at a disadvantage would be an understatement."

"Aside from lacking any need to immobilize you this time, I don't see what's changed." A-Three replied.

Prime chuckled as he responded. "Oh, I've learned a bit about who you are and what your agenda was and likely still is. And most importantly, whatever leverage that you think you may have had has been completely offset by a certain communiqué that you sent to the Galactic Council one million years ago, one all but admitting your responsibility in sabotaging the Manifest, and murdering Gal…Guardian Prime." Sentinel Prime smiled as his accusation was met with nearly twenty seconds of silence.

"I've murdered no one." Came the reply.

"Sabotaging equipment, forced confinement and starvation equate to murder!" Sentinel Prime snarled at the speaker.

The voice came back more confidently. "I am guilty of the first two accusations you just made, but not the third. In time, Cybertron will advance to the point where the actions of Guardian Prime, Galvatron and their ilk can be brought to light, looked at dispassionately, and they will be judged for the atrocities they've committed; but our world still has a long way to go before we get to that point, and until then the crew of the Manifest will be kept safe, as the universe will be kept safe from them."

It was time for Sentinel Prime to sit in stunned silence for nearly half a minute. "You…you mean that they may still be alive?"

"I have no reason to believe that they aren't." A-Three came back. "To be honest, I have not been keeping tabs. But barring outside interference, they should theoretically be fine; though completely subdued and out of the picture, so do not fear, Sentinel, your status should remain unchanged for the time being. Should Gallus Honorum returns to reclaim his title, it won't be my doing."

"You assume I value my role as Prime more than my duty to my kinsman and last Matrix-bearer? I assure you, that is an incorrect assumption." Sentinel Prime bluffed.

"It seems we've both made claims that the other is not entirely convinced of then." A-Three responded. "But know that even if I do believe you, should you continue to endanger Orion Pax I will come forward, identify myself, lay claim to the title of Prime, and reveal to the world the dishonesty, dishonor and brutality of both you and your ancestor Guardian Prime. If that means that I must answer for my crimes, then so be it. My legacy will be irreparably damaged, as will yours, and once I've laid out the evidence, Guardian Prime's will as well. But the reputation of Orion Pax is unblemished, and is growing throughout the planet for the work he's done in Rodion. So far your attempt to get him killed has only increased his standing in the optics of all."

"His success in Rodion works in my favor." Sentinel grumbled. "Had he gone there and languished, or been maimed or killed, your claims of it being an attempt on my part to dispose of him might have held some weight. But the impact he's had in that shithole only confirms that I saw untapped potential and made good use of it, nothing more. Whereas you coming forward will either lead to confirmation that you're a fraud, or that you are who you say, but who you say is the murderer of our planet's greatest and most beloved leader and hero! Beyond that, what do you have? Evidence that I can be harsh, arrogant, and primarily interested in the noble and ruling classes? That's expected of a good Prime!"

"Spin it how you wish, but either you see to Orion's safety, or your time as Prime will be very short." A-Three replied, showing sincerity, but lacking the authority he once had.

"You have been defanged, old man, take your threats and shove them up your ass!" Sentinel Prime snapped before severing the connection. The Prime leaned back in his chair, swiveled around to peer out over downtown Iacon, and peered deeply at the buildings around him. "So much for the little shield that island born shit used to have."

Shockwave

The shuttle touched down and Shockwave rose to his feet, making no comment to the pilot as he stepped out of the cockpit and marched to the opening door, striding through it onto the still lowering gangplank. He stepped onto cyber-firma seconds later and approached the small party there waiting for him. "Greetings Soundwave, I hope you've summoned me here for more than just some fighting tournament."

Soundwave stepped forward from the group of two others. Of the others, Shockwave recognized Starscream of House Nexus, the powerful looking chrome robot was unknown to him. "Greetings Shockwave, yes, I have not brought you here to watch gladiators fight, but to listen to one speak."

Shockwave peered at Soundwave silently for several moments before responding. "Soundwave, I respect you, more so than any other member of House Torrent. I hope that I'm not on the cusp of changing that assessment."

"From what I've heard, Shockwave, you are supposedly devoid of hope…or joy, fear or anything else that makes life interesting." Lord Starscream interjected.

Shockwave turned his lone optic toward Starscream for only a moment before directing it toward the unknown individual. "I have no interest in hearing any further from Starscream Nexus, so I hope it is you that Soundwave summoned me here to listen to."

The unknown robot smiled. "It is, and it is a pleasure to meet you, Shockwave."

"Lord Shockwave to you." Starscream hissed. "We all think highly of you Megatron, but you are a commoner addressing your better."

Megatron turned his head and glared at Starscream. "I have yet to see evidence that anyone is my better." The gladiator hissed at the winged noble before turning back to Shockwave and took a far more amicable demeanor. "That said, there is no doubt that Shockwave is worthy of titles and great respect, but it is not due to being born into a particular house. His greatness is derived from his ability, his efforts, and his ambition."

Shockwave studied this Megatron for a moment before turning to look at Soundwave. "You have shared with him the philosophies I have espoused?"

"Negative." Soundwave replied. "Your philosophies and those of Megatron are similar, but were derived independently of one another. I heard similar things from the two most impressive individuals I have ever met, and felt it necessary to bring the two of you together."

"And Starscream's presence?" The dismissive question earned Shockwave a glare from the winged Altihexian.

"As a lowborn who ascended to a position of nobility through…whatever means," Megatron began answering, "Soundwave and I felt that Starscream would be like-minded with us in this philosophy that station should be derived from one's abilities and contributions, and not birthplace. He has also developed an extensive network of contacts throughout the nobility, with the more influential common folk, and with the power-wielders in both legitimate and criminal businesses." The chrome gladiator displayed a sly grin as he continued. "And he holds a tremendous amount of sway over the Emir of Altihex."

"The rumors of Pathos Nexus's infatuation with Starscream have reached even my disinterested audio receptors." Shockwave replied. "The question of his trustworthiness remains."

Starscream displayed a look of feigned indignation at the suggestion that he wasn't trustworthy, but Megatron replied before he could say anything. "Starscream has many secrets, things he would never want to be revealed, and I am in possession of several of them."

"Bah." Starscream belted out a chuckle. "You have nothing on me, Tarnian."

Megatron smiled as he looked over at Starscream. "At seeing me in action and feeling that I may be the one to defeat the Simfurian dragon, thus giving him something to ridicule Ogrus Onyx over, Branus Modus invited me to a private meal with him. And as you may or may not know, Branus enjoys his engex almost as much as he enjoys shit-talking other nobles. He may have let a thing or two slip regarding a conversation you may have had with Zeta Prime." Starscream's optics stretched wide in shock and horror, but he remained silent as Megatron turned back to Shockwave. "And if blackmail doesn't work, well, I can always have him killed."

"That doesn't explain why you summoned me here." Shockwave interrupted the less than subtle power-play between the two. "I am not an aficionado of conversation, as Soundwave should know quite well, so what is it that you hope to advance to from discussing our shared feelings on determining one's worth?"

Megatron peered deeply into Shockwave's lone optic. "I seek to advance our feelings from taboo philosophy to the formal law of a new and better Cybertronian society. But this is something that will never be voted in, there will be no groundswell of peaceful support that will change the system. The existing system cannot be adapted to accommodate our new world order, no, it will need to be obliterated, torn down and its remains scorched to non-existence. Only from its ashes can we build our utopia, a world that will celebrate, reward, and bend to the exceptional while the mediocre facilitate the continuous improvements that the exceptional will spearhead. And those that are sub-par, well, if we truly aspire to greatness, we cannot allow them to encumber us with their consumption."

Shockwave studied Megatron for several moments before responding. "While there's little physical evidence to support it, it has been suggested that our society started, and has restarted in much the same way. House Macht has frequently used this idea as a justification for their place in society; that greatest of us arose and forged our society, and took their rightful places in power, and those forged of the same material must be the Ubermech as well, and therefore fit to rule."

Megatron nodded. "The first part of that sentiment is accurate; those that through their exceptionalness improve or create the society, are likely the most fit to oversee what they've created. But while I do believe that there are Ubermech, they emerge from those with potential far greater than what the average individual is born with, and who are able and willing to channel these innate abilities, this 'force' that they've been born with, into actual 'power'. There are many on our world, a tiny fraction of our population have such potential, and only a tiny fraction of those gifted few that have the 'will to power' to hone that potential into greatness. Those that fall into this tiny fraction of a tiny fraction are the Ubermech, and their power is not derived from the pool they emerged from or a clan name. I've seen too many mediocre or sub-mediocre elite and too many exceptional commoners to ever entertain such a suggestion."

Shockwave studied Megatron some more. "Agreed. Perhaps discussing things with you might prove fruitful after all."

Megatron smiled and waved Shockwave over to a building where they could sit and talk. "Perhaps together we can come up with a plan to make our desires a reality."

Militus Macht

Allowing the fighting circuit to have an event within the borders of Polyhex put him at great risk, but the financial reward was substantial, and the increased influence he would wield once he demonstrated how capable he was at putting on an extravaganza superior to the other southern emirates. The event that would be taking place the next day was just outside of Rodion, and he had left Megatron, who had become perhaps his most trusted and competent underling, to see to the details. In moments of boredom Militus sometimes wondered how Megatron had proven to be so competent at nearly everything, yet had only achieved mediocre scores on his intelligence tests. The Emir of Polyhex had even considered the possibility that his star gladiator may have played dumb during the testing, but quickly dismissed that ridiculous possibility.

He marched out of his office to sit in his private garden. He was deep within Castle Macht, only other members of House Macht and their most trusted and essential assistants were permitted here in this section, and nobody other than Militus ever entered this particular open-air garden. He turned off all transmission receivers to his personal frame and prepared for a few moments of quiet meditation. Life as the Emir of Polyhex was hectic, he loathed those that meditated on a regular basis, ridiculed them mercilessly, but truth be told, he found the practice to be helpful in calming his nerves, putting things into perspective, and recharging his dedication to his job. He just hoped nobody would ever see him doing it.

"Emir Macht?" The feminine voice belonged to Militus's personal assistant and data depository, File. Militus activated his optics and turned to glare at the commoner who had dared to enter the garden. She winced at his expression, but stood her ground. "I know I shouldn't be here, my lord, but you had cut all reception and I had no other way of contacting you."

"Then you wait." Militus grumbled as he ominously strode toward her. "Whatever it is could have waited."

"It's Sentinel Prime, my lord," File spat out, bracing herself for a strike but hoping the statement would prevent one, "and he insisted that it couldn't."

As hoped, the statement stopped Militus's strike. "I'll take it in my office." He grumbled as he marched past her. "I had better never see you in this garden again."

Moments later Militus entered his office and sat behind his desk, activating the communications array in the center of his desk. "Good afternoon, Sentinel Prime, I apologize for keeping you waiting. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"

"I would like to follow up on a favor I asked of you." Sentinel Prime's no-nonsense voice came back immediately.

"I live to serve, my Prime." Militus replied with a look of disgust on his face. "To which favor are you referring?"

"I think you're aware of the favor in question." Prime stated.

"Yes, my Prime, but you stated it needed to convincingly appear as though it occurred in the line of duty, or was an accident." Militus replied defensively. "He has proven to be far more resilient than expected. And because he has been repeatedly thrown into impossible situations and come out successful, he's made quite a name for himself. The people of Rodion consider him a hero, and his reputation is spreading quickly. I'm afraid that all…subtle…attempts have come up short. He's even won the grudging respect of the Overlord, who I've learned has put his attempts to kill him on hold as he tries to recruit him."

"Then it's time to get less subtle." Prime growled. "Eradicate him, I want him dead. Nothing as obvious as Macht security forces gunning him down, but feel free to use any means necessary short of that to kill him. But given your failure to this point, make sure that whoever you get to do it is beyond competent. This cannot be botched again!"

Militus nodded. "Of course Prime. I'll make the arrangements, by this time next week he will be a corpse."

"He'd better be." Prime grumbled before severing the connection.

Militus stared down at his desk for a moment before pressing a button. A moment later File's voice came through the speaker. "Yes, Emir Macht?"

"Get me Megatron."

Polar Claw

The canoe glided quietly over the water, the only object other than ice and snow to be visible on the sea, and the large bear watched it as it slid by in the distance, both he and the two Inuit paddling it regarding each other with a curious but respectful glance. They knew there was something different about him, their ancestors had referred to him as Nanuk; some of their ancestors had even seen his true form, leading to legends that polar bears were actually men in disguise. Granted, they'd have had to be men far more enormous than they were used to…and metal…and predominantly bright red. Of course, he was a lot more careful than his companion who'd taken the form of a brown bear. His indiscreet transformations in both the Himalayas and southwestern Canada/northwestern United States had led to more 'monster' sightings than he could count, and Barbearian…Grizzly-1, or whatever the hell he wanted to call himself these days, seemed to keep getting caught in bot mode well into recent decades.

The larger than normal polar bear continued trudging through the ice, wearily maintaining his vigil of the Polar Regions for a threat he hoped would not return. It had been over one hundred fourteen centuries since the last of the Beast Wars had ended, but there was no telling if or when another colonial warlord would come looking for what they knew to be hidden on this planet. As it stood, he still had to determine how best to categorize and deal with the structure he had recently found buried deep within the ice. Based on its shape, size and what few readings he could get from it, it could possibly be another Cybertronian, granted, one a good deal larger than the average Cybertronian, vastly larger than he or most other Maximals, and given its position in the ice, he, she or it likely arrived here long before he and his team did.

It was only a few dozen miles from his current position, and he considered traveling out to examine the sensors he'd set up to monitor and evaluate the structure; after all, it wasn't like there was much else for him to do. But just as he started to head out toward the anomaly a beep went off in his head, one alerting him to an incoming message waiting for him back at the headquarters. "Ugh." The grunt wasn't intended to sound bear-like, but it did none the less. Perhaps it was related to the long established fact that instincts and behaviors of the life forms of scanned DNA incorporated into Cybertronian frames seeped into the personalities of those Cybertronians. Or perhaps Polar Claw was just a grumpy old soldier.

A half hour later he trudged through the cavern that led down to where the ship that had brought them to this planet over a million years before. A series of scanning lasers darted out and strafed the outside of the bear, determining his identity and allowing him to proceed to the opening door of the craft. "Greetings Polar Claw, an incoming hail is awaiting you in your chambers." The ship's feminine voice announced.

"Thanks." Polar Claw replied as he transformed into a large red robot with white furry bits of polar bear hanging off of him. A minute later he was entering his chambers, sitting down in front of a console and switching open the communications channel. "Look Rattrap, I don't care how much the humans hate you and try to kill you, Manhattan is your assignment and you're not relocating until I determine a better place for you to be."

"Uhm, excuse me?" And unknown voice replied through the speaker.

The stunned Polar Claw's optics widened in shock. "Identify yourself!" He roared as he regained his bearings.

"I'm the one that built this craft and am the one that is in command of this mission!" The voice angrily replied. "To whom am I speaking?"

Stunned once again, Polar Claw remained silent for nearly a minute before replying. "You mean to tell me that this…this is Atrium of Crystal City?"

"That is correct. Where is Lord Convoy?"

"Which one?" Polar Claw growled into the speaker, a surge of animosity overwhelming him.

"Either." The voice replied.

"Spose' it doesn't matter, the answer is the same." Polar Claw snarled. "Interned in the Axalon's morgue."

"What? No." The voice gasped.

"First was Lio Convoy, at the hands of a maniac from Beest nearly two hundred thousand years ago!" Polar Claw snarled. "Then Big Convoy fell in a battle to the death with a warlord from Eukaris around a hundred twenty five thousand years ago. It was as he was dying that he placed me in command, ordering me to bring the last protoform of House Convoy online, to train and educate him to lead us one day. Oh, and it was then that he also confided in me as to who you truly were, Abdicator!"

"And who are you?" A-Three demanded, clearly despondent at learning of the fates of two friends. "Where is the Convoy protoform?"

"This is Polar Claw, Maximal Commander now, and you're too late to save him too!" He roared. "His name was Primal of House Convoy, and like his kinsmen and dozens of our fellow Maximals, he fell defending us from something you failed to warn us was kept on this world. Something far worse than the Primus-damned Manifest!"

"What?" A-Three questioned. "What are you talking about? There is nothing else on that planet."

"You stupid bastard, you mean to tell me that you genuinely don't know what's here?" The Maximal snapped disbelievingly. "How could you not know what was here? How could you not realize why Guardian Prime was interested in this organic mudball?"

"It was slated to be another colony, just like Eukaris." A-Three replied, more question than statement.

"No, it was slated to be a test run, one that if successful, would be duplicated on Eukaris and every other organic mudball Prime came across." Polar Claw growled. "You left us stranded here, unaware of what we were sitting on, or that Prime had shared this secret to a few select colonial mad dogs. No contact, no adequate system of defense, no real information, all while guarding not just Prime and his cronies, but his most potent weapon."

"What weapon?" A-Three asked frantically. "I examined the Manifest myself, stem to stern; there was nothing non-standard on board the vessel…"

"It wasn't on the vessel, it was already here!" Polar Claw roared the interruption. "We fought three wars keeping it from invading warlords, we sank our island utopia to keep it from destroying this world and everything on it, thus revealing its existence to every higher life form with the ability to see past their own system, and in the process we lost the last sparks to be born out of House Convoy. No disrespect to the Knights, but the royal high houses aren't shit compared to House Convoy."

"I…I do not disagree." A-Three mournfully replied. "I knew many members of House Convoy, enough to know that the ancient tales of the House's honor, valor, integrity and sense of justice were not exaggerated. I know that Trionic, Paxus, Honorus, Magnus, Maximus, Ambus and Solus all derived many of their noble philosophies from those of House Convoy."

"And yet the houses they spawned sat back and merely watched as the Convoys were set upon and ground to nothing!" Polar Claw snarled accusingly.

"It was too late before we knew House Convoy was being acted against!" A-Three tried to defend himself. "The destruction of their birthing pool was the first act of Saurus Onyx outside of his own borders."

"You're going to tell me that you were ignorant to the ambitions of Deathsaurus until that point?" Polar Claw growled.

"We knew he craved expansion, but couldn't act while he was within the borders of Nyon. And we were unaware that he would target House Convoy so specifically." A-Three responded.

"Then you were all fools!" Polar Claw growled coolly. "Every Nyonian commoner was more than aware of his hatred of House Convoy. Their efforts on the behalf of the common people, and specifically those within Nyon's borders, led Saurus Onyx to fits of rage. Of course he would target them."

"I have borne this guilt for twelve million years, Polar Claw." A-Three replied with quiet sadness.

"Then it is time for you to bear new guilt." The angry Maximal replied. "Big Convoy, Lio Convoy, Primal Convoy; all that was left of House Convoy, all killed because you left them unprepared, ill-equipped, ignorant of the true threat, and abandoned on this distant planet with no means to contact you or anyone else! In the million years since you left us here, did it ever occur to you to contact us?"

"No." A-Three whispered. "Cybertron was not ready, and I failed to conceive of any threat that you would face. At least, not one from outside that world. The primates of the second largest continent showed the promise to evolve into higher life forms that could pose a problem in time, but…but I doubted…" he trailed off.

"Well, I guess you're able to predict some things." Polar Claw replied. "They did evolve, and they have proven to be a pain in our ass. For a time we revealed ourselves to them, even allowing them to join us on our island and develop a civilization there. But after the fall of the island…well, we felt it best to leave them to exist and develop on their own. We've observed from afar, watched them make the same mistakes we made, and become as despicable as we are."

"What befell the island? What is the threat that drew conflict to that world?" A-Three pressed desperately.

"A nightmare made real." Polar Claw spat. "According to Big Convoy, it was something that Jhiaxus proposed long ago, but that was immediately decried as barbaric and Guardian Prime demanded that the idea be discarded…publicly at least. But Prime apparently gave his blessing outside public eyes, and Jhiaxus made his nightmare here on this planet. When we first arrived here we wondered why the island we initially settled felt so much more welcoming than the rest of the planet. It was because it was designed by one of our kind. Jhiaxus fabricated the island over a facility he built on the bottom of the ocean to hide it from prying eyes. It is there that he built and housed it, and where once completed, he would activate it. The Manifest didn't arrive here to drop off colonists to adapt to the ecology of this world; it arrived to change the ecology to that of our world."

"Primus, no." A-Three gasped unbelievingly, "Not the Ferr…" A buzzing sound interrupted A-Three.

"Hold on, Abdicator, got a report coming in." Polar Claw announced. "Polar Claw here."

"Hey Claw, it's Cybershark." The voice came through. "Got a detonation in Japan."

"Yeah, they're at war, and the Americans have already been making bombing runs into their country for months." Polar Claw replied impatiently.

"Not like this." Cybershark answered. "I'm in Hiroshima Bay, and, well…the humans have split the atom."

"Shit." Polar Claw grumbled. "Yup, the primates of the second largest continent have definitely become a pain in our ass."


	8. Chapter 8

Grimlock

They had been training together for months, drilled and re-drilled. His initial misgivings were not entirely gone; he still considered himself a loner, Sludge was still a moron, and Slag was still an asshole, and Swoop was still skinny; but despite his skepticism, they had actually gelled quite quickly, and damn if they didn't work extremely well together. So far their time together had consisted of nothing more than drilling, practice scenarios and sparring…granted, full contact sparring that more often than not left everyone involved in need of medical attention, but they all proved more than capable of taking a severe beating and they all healed quickly, even the scrawny Swoop. Grimlock continued peering at the twenty stout robots from Ankmor that were arrayed against them in this re-creation of the Liberation of Petrex, a battle that had occurred almost nine and a half million years ago, when the routed forces of Ankmor regrouped, licked their wounds, and set out to recapture their capital city that had been occupied by several legions of Deathsaurus's Nyonian beast soldiers. It seemed appropriate given the numerically superior Ankmor pussies bearing wheels and treads lined up against the Nyonian gladiators bearing teeth and claws. The only problem that Grimlock had with tying this brawl to the historical battle was that in the battle, the forces of Ankmor prevailed. History was not going to be followed this slaggin' day.

"Any last minute words of wisdom, boss?" Snarl quipped as he eagerly looked over the enemy.

"Non-fatality bout, so make them wish they were dead, just don't grant the wish." Grimlock grumbled. "Everything else I'm confident you already know."

"So, how in character do we need to be?" Swoop asked, a smile spreading over his face. "Like, do we need to call you Goryu?"

"Shut up." Grimlock growled.

Starscream swooped out of the sky and landed in the center of the pit, looking up into the throngs watching the event above and around him. "Good evening fight fans! Tonight we are in for a real treat! We will take you back nine and a half million years, to the second uprising of Deathsaurus, and the occupation of Petrex. The forces of Ankmor, driven from their capital, battered, beaten, broken, scattered across the wastelands surrounding their city finally regrouped, rekindled their fighting desire and set upon the impossible task of reclaiming their city." Starscream waved over to the twenty gladiators that had traveled all the way from the northern emirate. The crowd cheered them on as they all waved at the applause. "But dead set on retaining their conquered city, the bestial hordes of Nyon, under the leadership of General Goryu…" Starscream paused as the crowd booed intently the Nyonians, who while fellow southerners, were regarded as sub-Cybertronian beasts, "met them on the battle field. The numerically superior native Ankmorians met the fully charged and entrenched beasts of Nyon in a battle that finally freed their homeland after six full days of battle!" Starscream looked to his wrist as a chrono-display was revealed in a mock display of checking the time. "Hopefully tonight's festivities won't last that long, Emir Macht wants us out of here by morning." The crowd laughed and started cheering for the battle to begin.

"Sooooo," Swoop loudly called out to his teammates, "they've replicated the numerical advantage for the northern fops, does that mean that they've sapped their fuel supplies as well, or that our position in this pile of gravel is more advantageous than theirs?"

"Nope," Snarl replied, "to do that would provide too much chance of history NOT repeating itself, and the promoters are trying to make Ankmor and other northern pussies get the warm fuzzies about getting involved in the circuit."

"So the bastards are sacrificing us?" Slag grumbled.

"We won't be sacrificed." Sludge replied earnestly. "There's no killing."

"Our unbeaten streak, you dumbshit, not our lives!" Slag snapped. "They're basically jobbing us here!"

"Grimlock doesn't job, whether by choice or by the heavy-handed pressuring of the pipe-lickers in charge!" Grimlock roared as the red lights around the arena changed to yellow, indicating that the fight was about to commence. "Tonight, history will NOT repeat itself!" The lights flashed green, and instinct kicked in for Grimlock; a revised instinct, one that had to be amended from that of a lone predator into that of a pack hunter. The pack Alpha. It was a role he never wanted, one he violently resisted, one he openly scorned at every opportunity, but at moments like this, as he charged in against four-to-one odds in front of a crowd that hated him for reasons ranging from his bestial shell, his Nyonian heritage, his undefeated record, his disdain for…well, everything, as well as any number of other reasons to hate him; at this moment he relished in his pack. He relied on them as much as they relied on him. He had feared they would slow him down, get in his way, or provide some sort of vulnerability to his opponents. They had done none of that. Though Grimlock was certain that they shared no spark affinity, their ability to work with, around and in support of one another was uncanny.

Grimlock powered into eight hammer, mace, sword and axe-wielding would be tough guys while his team dealt with the others. He didn't need to watch them to know how his comrades were faring. Swoop and Sludge, who had nothing in common beyond a pleasant disposition outside the arena, were likely teaming up to punish the group of six trying to flank them to the left, while Slag and Snarl set upon the rest, independently beating the hell out of anything that moved and was not a member of the squad. The Liberation of Petrex had taken over six days and had resulted in a legendary victory for Ankmor. The recreation was over in twenty-four minutes, and the only Ankmorian left conscious was agonizingly made to belt out Slag's favorite drinking song while the horned Nyonian adjusted the knee in his back based on whether the singing was to his liking. Slag grinned down at the last northern warrior as he pressed his knee deeper into the small of his back. "Louder!"

"Slag?" Grimlock casually called out over the sounds of the horrible singing mixed with gasps of pain and the roar of the agitated crowd.

Slag looked up at his leader as the rest of the team gathered around him. "Already? We didn't even need to transform!"

"They were a bunch of northern dandies." Swoop explained.

"Even in bot mode, the rest of us still had to step up to make up for your lollygagging." Snarl quipped with a grin. "We should rename you Slack."

"Up your ass, bitch!" Slag roared as he hammered the pinned gladiator beneath him unconscious with a punch and started marching toward Snarl. The crowd's disappointed booing immediately shifted to excited cheering as it appeared the two Nyonians were about to get into it.

"Enough!" Grimlock bellowed. "Get the hell back in the locker room, and if either of you touch each other, I'll transform and bite your slagging limbs off!"

The team marched through the battered remains of their opposition, the re-angered cries of the crowd bombarding them with malicious, but oddly entertaining insults and threats. A cacophony of auditory chaos made up of an incalculable number of words hammering against one another, but one word, a name, repeatedly rang clear to Grimlock. He had been hearing this name for months now, and here, deep within Polyhex, it seemed to be mentioned in every other breath of every local. So it seemed fitting, if nothing else, that the owner of this name was waiting for him in the locker room. "Greetings Grimlock." The chrome gladiator delivered with a smile as the five Nyonians exited the tunnel and entered the large expanse that served as one of four storage, recharging, cleansing and medical facilities.

Grimlock looked the newcomer over and then at the various other gladiators and managers in the room before walking to a bench and sitting down, peering lazily at the metal floor. "So I finally get to meet the gladiator everyone is talking about." The hulking warrior from the city of Simfur looked up and nodded at the newcomer. "This Megatron of Tarn that everyone thinks will finally hand me a loss."

"That is my intention should we ever face off against each other." Megatron sat on a bench across from Grimlock. "But that's not why I'm here now. They'll be drumming up our fight for several more months at least before we finally meet in the pits, but I needed to seek you out sooner than that. Frankly, I'd rather not face you in the pit; I believe that there is a greater destiny for the two of us, one that has us fighting shoulder to shoulder, not face to face."

"We've got a full roster already." Swoop interjected as he walked over to the small medical scanning array and allowed himself to be inspected.

"Not what I meant." Megatron smiled before peering directly at Grimlock. "Is there somewhere we can speak alone?"

Grimlock chuckled as he bent some dented metal over his knuckles back into place. "I don't feel like scrambling off to a secret room, and I've never really felt any need to keep anything from my team." He nodded to the rest of the people in the locker room. "Feel free to shoo out whoever you don't want listening, but me and my guys are staying right here."

Megatron looked around and assessed each individual in the room. "You, Swindle; Starscream says that you can be trusted." The chrome gladiator chuckled. "Well, no, in fact, he says the opposite. But he did mention your name when compiling a list of those he felt would be interested in what I propose. Do you trust your men with your life? Because if you choose to stay, and you choose to allow them to stay, and word of what I'm about to say gets out, I'll be killing you all."

Swindle, standing between two of his bodyguard/goons on one side and the red and yellow Autobot deserters on the other looked them over as he considered his answer. "I trust these two completely…" the tan and purple criminal jerked his thumb at his henchmen, "as for these two…" nodding to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker before addressing them directly, "sorry boys, you're great fighters, and you make me a lot of money, but I'm not about to stake my life on a pair of former Autobots out to make some dough."

"Autobots?" Megatron asked, suddenly intrigued. He stepped toward the brothers and addressed them directly. "What drew you to them, and what made you leave their membership."

"Not sure we formally left," Sideswipe answered with a shrug, "we're just a little burned out with the pointless graffiti and other petty annoyances we toss at the powers that be while accomplishing zilch, and figured we could make some scratch fighting. We like fighting."

"We're great at fighting." Sunstreaker added arrogantly.

"Yes you are, I've seen the footage." Megatron replied as he stood up and approached them. "You're one of the most skilled combatants I've ever seen," he motioned to Sunstreaker before turning his gaze to Sideswipe and continuing, "and you're almost as skilled, and punch well above your weight-class. But you haven't answered my first question. What drew you to the Autobots?"

"Because slag the nobles." Sunstreaker shot back, then looked over at the horned Nyonian gladiator sitting on a bench glaring at them. "Not you, just the technical term for shit that you're named after."

"Screw you!" Slag roared as he stood up.

"Enough!" Both Megatron and Grimlock roared at the same time, causing them both to look at each other and give a silent chuckle.

"As my brother was attempting to say," Sideswipe piped up, giving Sunstreaker an angry glare, "we're not fond of putting anyone above us because they crawled out of a puddle of mud that was fancier than ours."

Megatron measured them visually for several moments before continuing with his questions. "Autobots believe that all are of equal value; do you share that opinion?"

Though looking at Sideswipe, it was Sunstreaker that answered, his response opening with a disdainful snigger. "Ha. No, slag that. Most of those lumps aren't fit to polish my bumper, but they're the only game in town when it comes to sticking it to the Man."

Megatron smiled at Sunstreaker before turning back to Sideswipe. "Do you agree?"

Sideswipe shrugged. "Not to the same extent, and not for the same reasons, but, yeah, I guess. I mean, the iron needs to be separated from the ore to be worth a damn. But there's no shortage of ore in the nobility, nor iron amongst the commoners, so between the Autobots and the status quo, the Autobot philosophies are more appealing to us."

Megatron's smile broadened at the answer. "These two may stay." He turned and looked to the various other robots in the locker room who were not a part of Grimlock's team or a part of Swindle's entourage. "Get out." The other robots looked to one another, then quickly gathered their possessions and scampered out. Once they left, Megatron looked back at Grimlock. "Now then, let me share with you my vision for the future."

Terminus

He awoke to a pronounced headache, vision that took nearly an entire minute to get clear, and sounds of work and casual conversation going on around him. When his vision finally did clear, and the pain in his head subsided enough for him to raise it without wincing, Terminus looked up to see bars surrounding him. He was seated in a cage for one to crouch comfortably within, but not tall enough for him to stand up. Outside his cage were several disreputable looking robots moving crates around the warehouse that they were in. "What's going on?" He asked to one individual passing in front of him wheeling a crate.

The other robot looked at him and smiled. "Skullcruncher, another one ready for orientation."

A moment later a green, purple and white robot squatted down in front of his cage and grinned at him. "Good morning. How are we feeling today?"

"Confused, irritated, and gearing up to deliver several beatings." Terminus growled.

"Yeah, that's the normal reaction to waking up in a cage." Skullcruncher replied. "And you clearly look like the type who can, and has, delivered many a beating. But whoever you used to be, whatever you used to do, is over now. You are now…" the captor turned to look over at a comrade, "hey Demus, what's the term the boss likes to use for the slaves?"

"Chattel!" The reply was called out by someone outside of Terminus's view.

"Chattel, yes, that's it." Skullcruncher smiled at Terminus. "You're now chattel."

Terminus stared at his captor for a minute before rolling his optics and chuckling lightly. "You stupid bastards knocked out the wrong guy."

"Oh, is that so?" Skullcruncher sarcastically asked. "Are you someone important?"

Terminus raised his optics and met Skullcruncher's gaze. "Me? No. But my boss is." He watched as the other robot's pliable metal brow furrowed in genuine interest. "My name is Terminus, I am a…retainer of sorts to Militus Macht. I have served him for many vorns, and while I do not profess to be of great importance, my absence will most definitely be noted and inquiries will be made. And, while I'm not important, when Emir Macht finds out that his retainer was abducted and sold into slavery, he will make those responsible pay, if for no other reason, than to demonstrate that actions taken against him or those representing him will have dire consequences."

Skullcruncher was silent for several moments before nodding. "OK, while the boss isn't afraid of Militus Macht, he probably doesn't want to start a war over one inconsequential slave. So I'll do a little checking, verify that you are who you say you are, and if everything checks out, we'll send you on your way with a little energon for your troubles."

"How did you knock me out, anyway?" Terminus asked, rubbing his head. "All I remember was walking through Rodion, then waking up here."

"Trade secret." Skullcruncher replied. "If you don't mind me asking, what's one of Militus's boys doing so far from Kaon?"

"Not official business." Terminus replied. "Emir Macht allows those that serve him well to attend to personal matters from time to time. I was following the fight circuit to Tarn when you waylaid me."

"Ah, well then, provided you're set free, you might as well stay put." The captor replied, straightening up to a standing position. "The Tarnian games concluded last night. I don't follow the fights that closely, but I hear the Nyonians trounced the Ankmorians in the main event. Crowd was a little pissed that a local boy who's made a name for himself didn't fight in his hometown. Don't know much about that guy. You ever hear of this Tarnian gladiator?"

"I'm familiar with him." Terminus grumbled.

"Anyway, they have a second event in Rodion scheduled for tomorrow night, so you can catch up to them then…provided you are who you claim to be."

"I am, so please go do what you need to do so that I can leave." The captive snapped.

"Fine, fine…" Skullcruncher started to reply just as the door thirty yards behind him was torn to pieces by the frame being blasted through it.

A moment later a red and blue form walked through the doorway and stepped over the unconscious frame that had been used to destroy the door. "Where is he?" The robot roared, an ion rifle gripped tightly in his right hand.

Terminus watched as bolts of various calibers and compositions rained down at the intruder, but missed as the intruder displayed reflexes that belied belief and dove behind several pallets of metal crates. He then popped up on the other side and returned fire, apparently very deliberate in what he fired at as they were single rounds, each punctuated by a pained cry and one less stream of weapon's fire directed at him.

"Hold your fire!" Skullcruncher yelled out and walked toward the center of the room, unarmed and his arms raised in submission. "Hold your fire!" Terminus watched as the intruder stared intently at the approaching Skullcruncher. "Please, Officer Pax, let's discuss things civilly."

"Civilly?" The officer replied incredulously. "Fine, tell me where he is, release your captives, abandon this facility to the authorities, and I'll let you walk away…for now."

"Believe me Orion, he WANTS to meet you face to face." Skullcruncher stated as the two stopped within a few feet of one another. "But he wants to do it once you're in a calmer, more reasonable state of mind. He likes you, he has high hopes for you, but he fears that if he faces you while your energon is boiling you'll force him to kill you, and he desperately wants to avoid that. It's causing him distress that you haven't accepted any of his offers. He genuinely wants you with us, he's courting you more than I've ever seen…well, come to think of it, I've never seen him court anyone before. It's outside his nature to be the one chasing. And having his generous offers met with hostility…well, there's only so much he can take."

"Good!" The angered officer snapped. "Only another push or two and he'll finally present himself to me."

Skullcruncher chuckled ominously. "Look kid, you're tough, no question about it. You're the only guy to have ever gone toe to toe with the boss and walked away. Well, ran away. And that's just it, you shot him in the knees and fled, so don't go thinking you're a bigger badass than you are."

"Fine, I'm outclassed, all the more reason for him to face me." Officer Pax snapped.

"Yes, you are…" Skullcruncher answered, "but you did stun him. None of the other boys want to admit it, but those of us still awake saw the lights definitely flicker when you tagged him. So, knowing that you would keep coming at us, and feeling it prudent to get a better understanding of what you're capable of, I took it upon myself to seed our various facilities with some…heavies, if you will." The criminal let loose a whistle and a moment later two massive, rotund, thirty-six foot tall robots walked into the expanse from the back room. "Not sure which is which, but one of them is Hammer, the other is Anvil. I'm guessing you have a fair shot of taking one of them, but there's no way you're taking both. A good display against both of them in unarmed combat probably is the fastest way to ensure Overlord's presence, though, so…"

Orion looked the two giants over before turning back to Skullcruncher. He then looked toward the row of cages, four of them, each with an occupant. With expert aim he raised his rifle and destroyed the locks on each of them. "Leave, now!" The occupants of two of the cages sprinted through the empty doorway, a third hobbled a few steps, but collapsed due to his mangled leg.

The fourth, Terminus, exited his cage but walked over to the downed former prisoner and helped him to his feet. He looked up at Orion Pax as he looped the other prisoner's arm over his shoulder. "Don't mind us, Officer, I was already set to be free, and I doubt that they would be opposed to cutting loose a slave incapable of walking."

Orion looked to Skullcruncher for verification, and the predominantly green robot shrugged and nodded. "Yeah, fine, they're free to go."

Pax looked the giants over one more time before nodding. "I go through these guys and Overlord comes out of the woodwork?"

Skullcruncher chuckled. "IF…you beat both of them, then yeah, I can't imagine him not taking your bait. You'll have definitely proven yourself worthy at that point. Frankly, I'm expecting a good showing, but you're not going to beat them both."

Terminus continued hobbling with his fellow former captive, but they both started slowing, genuine interest in the fight growing within them. They watched as Pax nodded and placed his rifle on the floor. "I will beat them both. Overlord is a powerhouse; these two, they're just big."

"Is that northern dandy talking about us?" One of the giants asked derisively.

"Let's show him what a powerhouse really is." The other answered back as they both started marching toward the police officer.

"Good luck Officer Pax." Skullcruncher offered as he backed away.

The first of the giants swung down heavily on the twenty-two foot tall officer, who easily side-stepped and delivered an overhand right of his own to the knee of the massive robot, causing a sickening crunch sound to reverberate through the warehouse. "Agghhh!" The large robot dropped to his shattered knee.

"Hammer!" The other yelled. "You OK buddy?"

"Worry about yourself!" Orion yelled as he leapt up, gripped the shoulder of Hammer, and used it to pommel over him up toward his compatriot, Anvil. Twisting mid-air, Orion delivered a thunderous roundhouse kick to the side of the massive thug's head. Anvil crashed down hard to the floor, the red and blue police officer tucking as he hit the ground and rolling back up to a standing position.

"Incredible." The injured robot whispered to Terminus as they watched the fight. "He's so fast."

"He is." Terminus agreed quietly, marveling that fast was an understatement.

Hammer forced himself through the pain in his knee back to a standing position and turned to face the intruder. "You're gonna sodding die!"

"Ughn." Anvil groaned as he slowly started to stir.

Orion charged at Hammer, but his charge was halted as he raised his arms to parry a straight right from the massive criminal. Hammer followed with a left that Orion ducked under and met with a counter upper-cut that landed just below the elbow. Hammer groaned, no significant damage was done, but the strike did put him off balance enough for Pax to get inside his reach. A blip of a second later Orion was delivering an overhand left directly into the crotch-plate of the Heavy, causing the robot to cry out in pain.

"Primus, he's…he's winning." The injured robot commented again. Terminus simply remained silent, watching a combination of speed, strength, agility and spatial awareness that he had only witnessed in one other being.

"Hammer!" Anvil called out again as he watched his friend staggering away from the robot they'd been hired to put a severe beating on. Shaking off the remaining cobwebs, Anvil pushed himself to his feet and charged after Pax. It wasn't as though he was trying to sneak up on the officer, but he still shuddered with surprise as the red robot suddenly and viciously whipped around to face him and met his charge. Terminus watched as fists became a whirlwind of motion. This Anvil was fairly fast for someone his size, but Pax was simply a blur of red and blue destruction. The giant's armor was extremely thick, perhaps as thick as a living being could possess and still remain functioning, but it was being battered like foil by the barrage of knuckle-bombs exploding on his mid-section. The unrelenting pain forced the giant to bend forward, and Terminus wondered whether he caught the site of blue knuckles before everything went black for him. Anvil hit the ground again hard, this time flat on his back, his arms dropping to either side and creating loud thuds as well.

It was then that Terminus noticed that the other one, Hammer, had actually been making his way toward them. He looked up at the oncoming brute and could do nothing to prevent the backhand that sent him spiraling across the floor. "Move, bitch!"

"What are you doing?" Terminus heard Orion yell as he struggled to get his bearings. He looked up to see Hammer clutching the other prisoner, one now crying out in further pain as the massive robot started crushing his torso. "Release him now!"

"Up yours, princess!" Hammer roared back. "We didn't come here blank, we did some reading up on you." He increased his pressure on his hostage a bit more as Orion marched toward them, stopping abruptly to look down, and stomping down on the butt of his rifle to send it popping into the air, allowing him to catch the handle and raise the weapon to the giant robot's head. "Ooooooohhhhhh, such a show of toughguyness! As I was saying before you decided to show us those tiny bearings of yours, we read up on you. You've got a big soft spot for peasant shitsacks that can be exploited." Pax's thumb reached up and flicked something on his rifle. "Another show of toughguyness? That brings me to the other thing we learned about you; you've never killed anyone. You've been a cop in Rodion for months, and you've yet to take a life? It can't be due to a lack of opportunities, not in Rodion, so that leaves one only one possibility left; you don't have the nerve."

"You really want to put that theory to the test?" Orion asked, not the slightest bit of doubt in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm pretty certain." Hammer replied, watching as Anvil started to stir again.

"Release him!" Pax reasserted.

"Yeah, no problem." Hammer replied, unfurling a blade from as compartment on his forearm and bringing it to his captive's frame. "I'm just going to shave a few chunks off this little bitch first."

"Hammer," Orion started sternly, "your analysis of me was half right. I've never killed before, I'd prefer to keep it that way, and if there's a way to resolve a situation without taking a life, I'll do my damnedest to find it. But you're wrong about me lacking the nerve to do so. You're threatening the life of another, I have every reason to believe you'll carry out your threats, I know that the danger that individual faces is real and likely life ending, and I know any option for resolving this without deadly force is fading quickly."

"Who ya' tryin' to convince, cop, me or yourself?" Hammer growled as he slowly started running his blade along his victim. "Or perhaps you're afraid you'll miss, and talking me down is your only chance at success."

"Hammer, with all humility, I'm successful at everything I attempt." Pax calmly, but sternly warned. "Things I try for the first time, I'm good at. Things I've practiced, I'm a master of. And I've had more than my share of target practice. Trust me, I will not miss. Now, please, release your hostage!"

"Whatever bitch-boy!" Hammer snarled as he pulled the blade back to plunge it into his victim. Terminus watched the face of Orion Pax, he watched as pain, regret, fear and sorrow washed over the young Cybertronian's face, but there was no hesitance as the ion canon spit forth a deadly round. There was no joy in his expression as Hammer's head jerked back a fraction of a second before he could drive his blade down, nor was there any sense of accomplishment as the giant released his prisoner and collapsed to the floor. Officer Orion Pax had overcome impossible odds, he had rescued 4 prisoners, one a second away from the infliction of a fatal wound, he was justified and successful by any measure, but all Terminus could see was disappointment etched on the face of a young idealist who clearly felt he should have found another way to resolve this impossible situation. It was the expression Terminus had been hoping to see months before on the face of another.

Delta Magnus

"Primus, Lord of Light, Order and Creation, please accept these humble gifts of ours!" The tall, elegant Mistress of Flame stood upon the altar built into the cliff-face of Mount Magnasticus, the peak overlooking Citidel Magnus in the central section of the Hydrax Plateau, the capital city of the Tagan Heights. The hundreds of worshippers standing below her called out in support of her words, clamoring for more. The majority of the emirate, most of the northern planet really, already held with the monotheistic belief in the god Primus, but it was the more modern and contemporary view of the creator; the kinder, forgiving and reasonable Primus. It was the depiction of Primus provided by later prophets and holy men they typically used to envision their god. The Primus being worshipped now was the one described in texts from the pre-Knight era, a Primus that was vengeful, spiteful, jealous, a deity that played favorites, that lashed out at his creations for any manner of offense, no matter how seemingly petty, that gave commands that sometimes seemed to contradict prior commands, and that demanded tributes of blood and spark to feel satisfied by the devotion of his creations.

That was a depiction that the followers of The Guiding Hand used to portray Primus, and one the weak, acquiescing fools that claimed to speak for Primus in more recent eras tried to distance themselves and their faith from. These neo-Primus worshippers presented him as a more measured, merciful deity that loves his creations, and demanded no death be done in his name; something more palatable to the weak-willed masses unable to bend to the will of their god and crying out for a god willing to bend to their needs. Delta Magnus looked over the devoted, and then peered out at those less-devout watching from a distance; frightened, angered, disgusted by the display, and Delta understood. Upon hearing what the Mistress of Flame said would be required to prove their devotion, Delta initially balked. He had no interest in spilling blood and extinguishing spark for a deity that he felt would be more offended than honored. But she had convinced him, made it clear to him that the original depictions of their creator were accurate, and all other depictions were falsehoods made by charlatans. Now, as he looked up at the pen beside the altar, at several organic beasts as well as several large cyberfoxes, he powered past his own revulsion and pity by telling himself that this was what Primus, the TRUE Primus commanded of them. It would take longer for the masses, who lacked his internal fortitude, to accept what he had accepted, but eventually they would; it was part of his grand destiny to bring all of Cybertron into the fold, kicking and screaming if need be. Starting with the blue, red and white royal freight hauler speeding out from Citidel Magnus right now.

Delta turned to face the arriving vehicle, and stood with arms crossed as it transformed into his kinsman Ultra. "Emir Magnus, what the hell is going on?"

"Watch your words, Ultra Magnus!" Delta warned. "I recognize that you are not a follower of our religion yet, but that does not give you the right to barge in and demand anything in a disrespectful manner!"

"I apologize for my tone, my Emir," Ultra Magnus said begrudgingly, "but I couldn't help but notice the pen with both cybernetic and organic life forms up by the altar. Perhaps it's a case of my imagination running away with me, but it almost appears as though your fire priestess means to sacrifice them."

"Is that against the law?" Emir Magnus asked. "I assure you, there are no outstanding legal claims on any of the animals. Any that were property were either purchased legally or donated most willingly."

Ultra Magnus paused in disbelief for a moment before responding. "Technically, you are correct, my Liege. No laws were created to outlaw such practices, particularly because in the post Knight era, and certainly after the creation of the unified government, such practices were so taboo, so abhorrent, so long-abandoned that no laws were required; they were already universally rejected."

"But don't you see Ultra, so much that has been done since the Knights has been wrong." Delta Magnus said. "Especially in regards to our depictions and acts of devotions to Primus."

"The Knights shaped our world," Ultra Magnus replied stunned, "and are the reason you and I are in positions of power! Our very name is derived from the Knight Magnus! We are his descendants! What you are doing, and your reasons for doing it, dishonor him and what he and his comrades accomplished! They saved our world!"

"I respect and honor the Knights, my brother, and true, they laid many of the foundation of our world in terms of law and governance. But they said and did very little in regard to religion." Delta Magnus replied. "This softening of our Lord and Creator was not their doing, it was the doing of others that were born into a world of safety and justice, others who had no knowledge of the carnage that is the norm. Primus is not alone, he has an opposite number, a master of chaos. The Knights defeated the minions of chaos, not chaos itself. For us to be ready for it when it returns, we must harden ourselves, devote ourselves to our master, and pray that he finds us worthy of his support when the darkest hour arrives."

The stunned Ultra Magnus stared disbelievingly at his brother. "Delta, that's dogma, dogma supported by no factual evidence or reason." He then turned his gaze up to the altar where the Mistress of Flame was leading a pair of beasts from the pens to the sacrificial mount, one a mechanical cyberfox, the other horned, shaggy aurochalus that was as large as she was; both beasts terrified.

"You put too much faith in reason, my younger brother." Delta replied dismissively.

The comment brought Ultra's stunned gaze back upon his brother. "Did you really just say that?"

Delta met his gaze. "You put more value in reason than in the word of our god?"

"I put more value in reason than any religion that exists." Ultra replied authoritatively. "And regardless of what a religion claims, reason never runs contrary to the words of any god worth worshipping."

"There are forms of reason beyond our understanding."

"Then it falls upon our creator, or his, her, its or their acolytes to make us understand before we end a life in his, her, it or their name." Ultra snapped.

Delta glared angrily at his kinsman, but relaxed and shook his head. "I will pray for you brother." 

Ultra looked up at the altar, where the sacrificial blades were coming down on the first of the offerings, causing cries of animalistic pain and panic to fill the air. He turned and started walking back toward Citadel Magnus. "Save your prayers for sacrificial beasts…and sacrificial Autobots."

Prowl

The prison, dungeon really, was a dark and hopeless place. He had never really had a problem with these traits until he had signed the order to put Orion Pax down here, albeit temporarily. Unfortunately that bit of empathy and recognition of the injustice for one opened the door for consideration of other prisoners. Dangerous felons got what they deserved, but those down here for minor offenses, including those guilty of acts of civil disobedience that had been trumped up to attempted Primalcide, well, Prowl's certainty that he was just in all he was doing was not what it once was. He passed the rows of cells…basically just cages with cots, until he stood in front of one housing a large, red, orange and yellow Autobot. "Hello Blaster."

The large Autobot raised his head and glanced at Prowl, too physically and mentally worn to be playful. "What do you want Prowl? Our execution isn't for a couple more days."

There was a long stretch of silence before Prowl finally responded. "Perhaps, if you cooperate, we can avoid the execution."

Blaster looked up, one optic arched behind his cracked visor. "Let me guess, all I have to do is turn over my comrades, is that it?" Prowl nodded, eliciting a chuckle from the prisoner. "At the very least you should have promised to avoid the executionsssss, plural."

Prowl's expression remained fixed and devoid of emotion. "Frankly Blaster, I've overstepped my authority even offering to spare you. Prime doesn't know I'm here. He's hot to see you killed, but I believe that with an adequate offering, I can get him to spare you. I can certainly advocate for mercy for your comrades, and I promise you I will do my best, but he's adamant that an assault on the Prime needs to be met with execution."

"Save your breath," Blaster chuckled as his head dropped back down, "I never had any intention of telling you shit."

"I assumed as much." Prowl replied. "Just as I assume I'll get the same answer from your comrades, but I'll ask them all the same."

"Feeling guilty about executing some nogoodniks guilty of playing with glue-guns?" The prisoner smirked.

In the past some form of brush off to the questioning of a punishment would have been instinctive and instant, but Prowl no longer possessed the conviction he once had. He couldn't justify this punishment. And while he had no intention of validating Blaster's question, he could offer no response other than to silently turn and walk away, which served as enough validation to the prisoner, whose laughter accompanied Prowl down the corridor toward the next Autobot prisoner.

Orion Pax

"We're almost there."

"Thank you, Officer." The injured civilian grunted through the pain as he sat on the rear portion of Orion Pax's vehicular mode. "May the Guiding Hand hold you through all of your days."

"Thank you sir." Orion replied instinctively, his mind weighed down by thoughts of what had just transpired, and an act that while justified and unavoidable, was something that had changed him, and that it was a change that he could never undo. The other prisoner, Terminus, had been very consoling and rational about the matter as they had exited the warehouse and as he helped load the injured citizen onto Orion. The young officer instinctively knew that Terminus knew of what he spoke, that he had been there himself, and oddly enough, could sense that the elder seemed very approving, almost to the point of admiration, of how Pax was dealing with the situation. Dealing? Perhaps that wasn't the right word. He hadn't had time to really deal with it. He had quickly called in the situation to Momus, then getting the other captive, this Ardulas, medical treatment was a priority that definitely took precedence over Pax making sense of his first killing.

His first killing. He was a killer now. He had always known that it was very possible, even likely that he'd be put in the situation where he would need to take a life, but it was not the sort of thing you could truly prepare yourself for. And now that the barrier had been crossed…he didn't quite know how to feel. But he had no regrets, of that he was certain, and that took a good bit of the edge off the sting. He set thoughts of the sting aside as he transmitted a message to his destination. "Western Rodion Clinic, this is Officer Orion Pax, inbound with a patient on my rear section. Significant non-spark-threatening damage to the torso, and severe damage to the leg. Please have a table prepped and assistance removing him from my vehicular form would be appreciated."

"Good morning Lor…err, excuse me, old habits and fancy names," the voice of Minerva, a medical student who was interning at Ratchet's clinic, came through, "we'll be ready for you Officer Pax. What is your ETA?"

"Thank you Minerva, I'll be there in about ninety seconds." Pax replied. A minute and a half later he was pulling up to the front where a femme with coloration similar to Ratchet's was waiting for them. Pax stopped and Minerva stepped forward. "Not life-threatening, but be gentle nonetheless."

"Phew, highborns always assume we commoners don't know what we're supposed to be doing." The femme replied humorously as she delicately hoisted the patient off of the blue rear portion of the vehicle, allowing Orion to transform and help carry Ardulas inside.

"I was born in a cave." Orion replied, reaching down to lift up the patient and take him in himself, allowing Minerva to trot ahead and lead the way. The officer followed her through the uncharacteristically empty waiting room and into a small side room with a slab in the center, where he placed the patient. "Place seems desolate, are there any other patients?"

"Yeah, slow day for the most part." Minerva replied as she started looking at the patient's partially crushed and lacerated chest. "Ratchet is looking over the only other patient in the back. Severe beating; he's inducing shellshock in hopes of saving the patient's life."

"Inducing shellshock?" Pax muttered as he took a look at the patient's leg. "How would adding psychological trauma to physical trauma aid the patient?"

"No, not Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, the other shellshock." Minerva clarified. "Sometimes, when the physical trauma is so extensive and spark failure is imminent, particularly from a head wound, a patient can be transformed to their alternate mode to reduce the physical requirements of the patient and perhaps buy time. It can sometimes turn a fatality into a coma, and provided the damage to the brain module isn't too severe, there's a slight chance of recovery. Though the tiny fraction of those successful cases usually only result in a partial recovery, most usually are never able to leave their shell mode again. And unfortunately, this particular patient only has a shell mode, he was too poor to have any alterations to a vehicle, beast or anything else done, so even if he recovers to the point of being able to use his alt mode, he can do nothing but sit there."

"Primus, who did this to him?" Pax asked.

"Not sure." Minerva replied as she began patching up one of the lacerations on the patient's chest. "He was an empty, people think they don't matter and decide to unleash whatever frustrations, dark humor, or lust for violence upon them whenever they want. Based on the damage, it was multiple assailants."

"I'll have to keep my audio processors sharp for any noise regarding that." Pax muttered, knowing that there was little chance of finding the assailants.

"I've got this guy if you want to go back and see the victim." Minerva offered.

"Thanks, I'll take a look, but I'm more use right here for now." Pax replied.

"Really?" Minerva asked, seemingly confused, but adopted a faux display of realization before continuing. "Oh, that's right, the van is parked in back this time." She watched Pax closely as he raised his optics to her, trying futilely to hide the excitement on his face. "Ha, so it's mutual!"

"You have things in hand here, right?"

"Yup."

"Thanks." Pax smiled before turning and walking quickly down the hall, knocking gently on the door at the end before slowly entering. "Hello." Standing in front of him was Ratchet on one side of a table with a beat up shell resting on it, and a tall, unknown robot on the other side.

The unknown robot gave Orion a disapproving look. "Do you work here?"

"Volunteer." Ratchet muttered without looking up from his patient.

A broad smile came over the other robot's face. "Ahh, so this is the volunteer I've heard so much about?"

Orion peered at Ratchet looking for some indication on how to proceed, but the doctor remained fixated on his patient. The young officer returned his gaze to the unknown party and looked him over. About twenty-one feet tall, just a foot shorter than Orion, lean, impeccably maintained and polished, and a face that exuded both kindness and power. It was then that Orion felt a familiar tingle in his core, and knew that there was another person in the room. He smiled broadly and addressed the stranger. "And is this the Emir of Axiom that I've heard so much about?"

Exponum arched his optic brows and nodded to Ratchet. "He is a detective."

"You're a public figure, he just recognized you from a picture somewhere." Ratchet muttered dismissively as Orion stepped into the room and peered around the door, seeing a broadly grinning Elita Solus staring back at him.

"So it goes both ways…" Elita whispered as she gently touched her chest. "It's too bad I'll never be able to sneak up on you, but it does kind of make things…" her grin widened, "well,…, anyway, how are you?"

"Glad to see you." Orion replied, a broad grin on his face, but he turned and approached Exponum. "Emir Exponum One, it is an honor to meet you." He offered his hand, which Exponum took into his and shook.

"It's good to meet you as well, Lord Pax." He replied. "Chromia has been a welcome addition to our household, and she praises you daily."

"I'm no lord, sir, just a commoner that Torenia Pax took mercy upon." Orion grinned, sheepishly sending a glance to Elita as she walked over to stand next to Exponum. "And it's good to hear Chromia is getting along well in Hyperious."

"About time you got here kid, been waiting for you for hours. Something hold you up?" Ratchet muttered to Orion, interrupting the conversation.

The excited and pleasant look washed away from Orion as the memories of what happened earlier in the day came back to him. "Yeah, you could say that." The young officer's eyes dropped to the floor.

Even though he wasn't looking at him, Ratchet immediately knew something was wrong and raised his head to peer at Orion. They all saw the dark mood that had fallen over the young officer, eliciting looks of worry and confusion from the members of House Solus. Ratchet initially displayed a similar look, but he quickly realized what had happened and a look of compassionate understanding came over him. He stepped forward and placed his hand on Orion's shoulder. "We knew it was going to happen at some point. You're a cop in the worst city on the planet, of course it was going to happen."

"I know." Orion muttered before raising his gaze and forcing a smile. "I'm over it."

"No you're not, kid." Ratchet muttered.

"What is it?" Elita asked, almost insistently.

Orion looked at her worried face, then to Ratchet, who met his gaze and nodded supportively. "I was forced to kill in the line of duty this morning."

"By the Hand!" Elita gasped as she covered her mouth. She rushed forward and embraced him, but pulled back slightly to peer into his eyes. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Orion immediately insisted, gently shrugging off the hug.

"No you're not." Ratchet repeated. Orion sent him an annoyed look, but Ratchet stood his ground and continued. "Look kid, there were objections that went well beyond just your physical safety to you being assigned as a cop in Rodion. Hell, at your age you shouldn't be a cop anywhere. But in Rodion, you're bound to either kill or be killed, and nobody your age is equipped to deal with killing someone, no matter how justified you may be."

"Well I am!" Orion insisted, stepping back away from Ratchet and Elita. "Look, I appreciate the concern, I really do. And your worries aren't unfounded, I know. I admit, I'm shaken, this is hard to deal with, but I will get through it just fine."

"Orion, you need to talk this through." Ratchet pressed.

"No, I don't." Orion insisted. "I was justified. I know that if I had to do it all again, I wouldn't change anything. At some point my subconscious will realize this and it will all be put behind me."

"The mind isn't the slave to reason that we'd like it to be." Ratchet replied. "You have emotions, Lord Pax, you need to acknowledge that fact and deal with them."

"Don't call me…" Orion nodded and gave Ratchet an exasperated grin. "Ah, very clever, enhance your point about me having emotions by baiting me with the lord title."

"It worked, didn't it?" Ratchet asked.

"Yes, I have emotions, but do you really think I'll have difficulty coming to terms and moving on?" Orion shot back. "It's troubling, but I don't need help to get through it. It's just another challenge set before me, another challenge I'll overcome. That's what I do, I succeed. Have you ever known me to fail at anything?"

Ratchet's expression became stern. "Not until just now, when you failed to keep that ego of yours in check."

"Ratchet, stop it." Elita chimed in.

"No Elita, he's right." Orion calmly stated before looking at all three individuals and resting his gaze on Ratchet. "I apologize for how that came out, but I'm confident that I'll be able to handle this just fine."

"But Orion," Elita reached up and gently stroked his cheek, "you don't need to handle this on your own."

"No lad, there's absolutely no reason for you to deal with this on your own." Exponum added. "You and I just met, but I am more than willing to help you through this, as is Ratchet and I'm more than certain Elita would be there for whatever you need. And I don't think I need to mention the members of House Pax; particularly Torenia and Roller."

"No." Orion quickly but politely protested. "Please, Emir Solus, do not inform Torenia of this. I'd prefer not to trouble her with it.

"Trouble her with it?" Elita gasped disbelievingly. "Orion, she loves you. She's as much as your mother."

"She IS my mother, which is why I'd rather she not know; at least not yet." Orion responded. "And I'd like to be the one to bring this up to Roller."

"It'll probably be the first time he responds to you in a manner other than a good natured insult." Ratchet quipped, eliciting a smile from both Orion and Elita. He noted the grin on the femme. "I see you're familiar with Orion's goofball other half."

"Oh yes." Elita smirked. "It seems Orion has been calling me with a bit more frequency than he calls Torenia," she gave Orion a scolding look, one that elicited a sheepish grin, "so a good portion of my calls to Torenia tend to be updates on what Officer Pax is up to, which Roller has insisted on sitting in on and has provided many a commentary on what Officer Pax has done and said."

"Look, I appreciate all the offers of support, and perhaps at some point I may take each of you up on it, but for now I'd prefer to deal with this on my own." Orion stated. "I promise you, I will be OK."

Ratchet shrugged. "Well, as long as you know the offers are out there, that's all we can do." Elita gave him a look of disagreement, but Ratchet returned one of his own making it clear that they'd get no more traction on the subject at that time. "So anyway, I suppose you heard about this unfortunate case." He nodded toward the shell on the slab.

"Yes, Minerva gave me a brief rundown." Orion replied. "Basically a potential option to stave off death due to trauma to the brain module is to transform the patient to alternate mode?"

"More or less." Ratchet replied. "The requirements on the brain to regulate and operate our bodies are substantial, whereas in our shell modes those requirements are comparatively miniscule. It's by no means a cure-all; in fact, ninety-nine out of a hundred times the patient dies anyway, but sometimes it can help. Unfortunately, in the few cases where it's a viable option, the damage is so severe that the patient remains in alt mode for the remainder of their life, and only a portion of their cognitive functions ever return."

Orion studied the shell. "I'll do what I can to bring the assailants to justice." He asserted.

"Not any time soon I'm guessing." Ratchet replied. "It's standard procedure to put you on leave, right?"

"Yup." Orion answered. "Momus hasn't done anything official yet, but that is what's supposed to happen." A faint buzz was heard coming from Orion's wrist. "Speaking of which…" he brought his wrist to his mouth, "This is Officer Pax, go ahead." Orion listened as the individual on the other line relayed instructions to him. "I understand sir, but in light of what happened earlier, are you sure you want me to handle this?" Orion listened some more. "Yes sir, I'll report in with any findings. Pax out." A puzzled look came over Orion before he looked up to the others in the room. "Apparently we're deviating from standard procedure. I'm not on leave…at least not yet."

"They're giving you an assignment already, after what just happened?" Elita asked in disbelief.

"Apparently." Orion replied, reaching out to gently hold her hand, hesitating for a brief moment as he remembered Exponum One was there, but as he had already started the act, continued.

"You do know Momus is sending you into another trap, right?" Ratchet grumbled, allowing himself a slight smile at the small display of young romance and the cock in Exponum's eyebrow that was caused by it.

"Possibly. The events this morning…well, it was one of Overlord's goons, and took place in one of his facilities." Orion replied. "And Skullcruncher gave the impression that the big guy's patience with me had about run its course even before it all went south."

"Orion, don't go." Elita pleaded. "They'll kill you."

"Kid," Ratchet started consolingly, "my comment earlier about your ego; I tossed that out there not because you have one…you don't, hell, you're humility is pretty staggering all things considered. I said what I said to win an argument with you, which requires a dirty trick or two to pull off. It's not your ego, the simple fact is that you really are incredibly good at pretty much anything that's ever been put in front of you, to not notice that would be stupid. But while being a prodigy at damn near everything is usually a good thing, I am genuinely afraid that it's going to be your downfall. Failure is the greatest of teachers, but it has yet to teach you a lesson. It's going to, it's only a matter of time, and I just hope your first lesson in failing is something you can walk away from."

"What is it that they want you to do, lad?" Exponum One asked.

Orion looked at each of them before answering. "Word on the street is that a few days ago one of those fighting tournaments was held somewhere in or around Rodion. Apparently they had the event, packed up, moved on to Tarn, had their event there, and are going to hold another one in Rodion on their way back north. Momus wants me to follow up on some leads regarding it."

"Alone I presume?" Ratchet cynically grumbled.

Orion shrugged. "There's a lot of ground to cover, and I'm assuming Momus has the other officers doing other things." He watched Ratchet roll his optics and noted the look of fear on Elita's face. "I recognize the likelihood of this being a trap. I'll take precautions."

Ratchet shook his head. "Just promise me that once this trap has sprung, you'll be able to walk away from it."

Mindwipe

"Mindwipe…"

The voice returned, as it frequently did in his dreams. Subconsciously Mindwiped recognized he was dreaming, but this realization was subdued enough so that he remained slumbering. "Who calls?" He responded to the otherworldly voice.

"Those you would serve. The time is soon."

"We are not ready." Mindwipe replied to the voice as the blackness slowly gave way to shapes blurred by shadows created by small rivers of magma running through a vast cavern. The shapes, the vast legions of those he hoped to free, moved restlessly before him. He had been hearing the voices for decades, but this was the first time an image had presented itself. "We lack the force to free you. The army we are creating…it's not ready."

"We grow impatient. Our mutant servants that have been providing us sustenance are fading. Only a few dozen survive, and their sparks are unable to go on much longer."

"Please, just a little more time." Mindwipe begged. "You've held on for fifteen million years, surely a few more can be endured."

"You have had years; centuries! Our patience is at an end!" The voice barked out, the images, most appearing to be the size of standard Cybertronians with several giants lingered in the back, shuffled ominously. "Demons, sparkeaters, mutants; we are to be free! We are to spread our death across our world!"

"And you'll make me one of you?" Mindwipe begged.

"We reward only the faithful! Prove you can be counted in that number! Free us!"

With that command Mindwipe awoke on his slab in the barracks of the Tartarun Gates. He peered around at the dormant forms of his fellow Wardens, and decided to get up. The others, those he truly shared a mutual cause with, needed to know that their progress wasn't sufficient. He needed to contact Reptillion.

Rabattus Decimus

The darkly colored royal watched as Sentinel Prime paced furiously across the floor of his personal chamber, ignoring the goblet of engex as he gave into his agitation. Rabattus would not be so neglectful of his expensive drink, and swirled it gently in his goblet before raising it to his lips.

"The cowards lack the bearings to say anything to me directly, but their whispers do get back to me! I know what they're saying, what they're thinking!" Prime snarled. "Those petty little bitches, senators, lords, even the royals, all bitching about me taking decisive action that needs to be taken! Basically doing what a Prime needs to do to hold this group of squawking, bickering emirates together!"

Rabattus remained relaxed in his chair as he sent an understanding smile to his leader. "I understand your frustration, your grace, believe me, I've been here before. My beloved kinsman, friend…brother, Zeta Prime before you felt the same pricks from the same treacherous malcontents that assail you now. Smiling to his face, claiming friendship, and then stabbing him in the back later. It was his downfall really, there were times he was faced with difficult decisions, opposition coming at him, and from time to time he would knuckle under to that opposition, even knowing that his preferred course of action would have been the right course. All to appease those bitching senators, lords and royals."

Sentinel stopped in his tracks and stared at Rabattus for a moment, then taking a few steps to finally retrieve his own engex. "Odd, I always respected Zeta for his strength and ability to defy the wills of those who countered him."

Rabattus nodded. "Oh, there were times where he did stand strong, and he made a good show of it. The times he acquiesced flew under the radar, intentionally so. I'm not saying he was weak, he most definitely was not. But he had moments of doubt, and there were times when he questioned himself when he truly should not have, and that questioning often led to compromises." The dark royal polished off his drink and stood, approaching the hulking Prime, placing his hand on Sentinel's shoulder. "I loved Zeta, I miss him every day, and he was an excellent Prime, but he was not without flaw." Rabattus peered intently into Sentinel's optic. "Nor are you. You lack his charisma; not that you lack charisma, but Zeta was a brilliant public speaker."

"I am well aware of this." Sentinel replied, the hint of annoyance present in his voice.

"Nor are you as diplomatic as he was," Rabattus continued, "but that's not necessarily a bad thing. His diplomacy stemmed in part from his desire to please everyone, and that's just not a viable aspiration as you and I both know." The dark royal removed his hand, turned and took a few steps away. "Your directness stems from strength. I'm not saying that you should block out the suggestions, desires and opinions of others, but always remember that you are Prime, and that there's a very valid reason you are Prime. You're a royal, raised in the most influential ruling house on the planet, mentored by the greatest of us, provided the most comprehensive of educations. You've also spent millennia heading the security of the planet, administering over the lowest beat cop to the highest of military generals. You've gotten your hands dirty, dealt with the commoners harshly, mercifully and everywhere in between as was appropriate. More than anyone else on the planet, you've got experience with all walks of life. What senator, lord or emir has such experiences on their resume?" Rabattus turned and looked directly into the optics of Prime.

Prime nodded. "None."

"That's right." Rabattus pressed. "There's a reason you're Prime. Thank Primus you're Prime! Arlon Pax and the others can complain about dangerous reassignments to their pet commoners, secret trials, hasty death sentences issued to prisoners, and deviating from due process all they want; they do not carry the weight of the planet on their shoulders, only their isolated, homogenous emirates. And frankly, from one member of a ruling house to another, we both know that within our own borders we follow due process loosely at best. Pax and whoever else is daring to protest your recent actions are nothing more than vile hypocrites."

Sentinel peered into Rabattus's optics. "So I should ignore these protests?"

Rabattus turned his head, as if thinking deeply on the matter, before turning and walking back to his abandoned goblet to refill it. "Yes and no. Your handling of the Autobots is correct and just. They need to be executed, their movement needs to be squashed. But you should not simply ignore the protests as if they do not exist. Address them, explain to those voicing them that what you're doing is what's best. They will remain unconvinced, but simply know that going in and do not let it sway your decision. Give them the impression that their words carry weight with you, but ultimately, do what you know needs to be done; do it decisively, and do it quickly."

Sentinel pondered the words quietly for over a minute, his head twisting slowly toward the wall-sized window overlooking Iacon. He took in the vast metropolis, knowing that while it was the greatest of cities, it was only one of the many that he ruled over around the planet. He was responsible for the lives and wellbeing of tens of millions of Cybertronians. He was their shepherd, their protector, their guide…their father. He winced at the thought of the last word, and organic familial term adopted by many of his kind. Why terms for inferior life forms were working their way into his species relationship lexicon would always confound him. But he was the leader of all Cybertronians, and even when they couldn't recognize it, he was acting in their best interests. "Thank you my friend. I've come to value your council above all others."

"It is nothing short of an honor for me to be able to serve you." Rabattus bowed as he replied. "I hope that in time your faith in me mirrors the faith Zeta had in me."

Sideswipe

"What the hell are we doing here?" Sideswipe quietly asked his brother as they peered out from the second floor window of an abandoned building in the outskirts of Rodion. "We're hooligans, not thugs."

"There's a difference?" Sunstreaker responded equally quiet.

"Hooligans fight to fight. Thugs fight for some sort of criminal gain." Sideswipe replied, but clammed up as they felt their employer approaching from behind them.

"You boys aren't getting nervous, are you?" Swindle questioned half-jokingly as he sidled up between them.

"Not really nervous, sir, just…confused." Sideswipe replied. "You usually bring Raw Deal and Fisticuff out on these little endeavors, not us."

"And what do you know about these little endeavors?" Swindle asked.

"They're your criminal dealings outside of your involvement in the gladiatorial pits," Sunstreaker muttered, "where you take an exorbitant percentage of the purses the fighters you represent get."

Swindle turned his head to give Sunstreaker a glare. "Ignore him." Sideswipe suggested as he continued staring straight out into the debris-filled lot on the other side of the empty, ill-maintained road that ran in front of the building. "The last part anyway. But he's right otherwise; you usually bring the other guys out to do your gangster shit."

"Does this have something to do with them?" Sunstreaker nodded toward the massive gladiators farther back in the empty expanse.

Swindle turned and looked at Megatron and the towering Lugnut. "Perhaps." The tan and purple robot turned back to them. "Maybe what you boys had to say last night got his attention, and he might be considering you for something. Maybe this is some sort of test."

Sideswipe glared almost angrily at Swindle. "We're sitting here, waiting for some local cop to show up, apparently to see if we're worthy of something or other." The red gladiator shook his head. "I'm pretty sure I'm not going to be OK with whatever this test is."

Swindle leaned in close, pulling the two brother's closer to him as he whispered. "Look, I get it, even I get a little queasy when I have to kill a cop. But I'm thinking that's not the direction we're taking. I overheard Megatron mutter something about 'recruiting', so we may just be here to be lookouts and to help him look tough."

Sunstreaker glanced over toward the two larger robots. "Yeah, they really need us to look tough."

"Numbers you jackass!" Swindle slapped the back of Sunstreaker's immaculate head.

"He's got his own 'numbers'." Sideswipe whispered back. "Between Macht goons there to follow his orders, the majority of gladiators in the pits, and what appeared to be an entourage that included a few nobles, he really doesn't need us. Speaking of which, you do realize that that big mook Lugnut is a member of a noble house in the Torus Heights, right?"

"I know all about Lugnut, and as I said, it's a test for you two…and me as well I suppose." Swindle replied. "Two birds with one stone, get it?"

"Is that the mark?" Sunstreaker asked, nodding out the window as a red and blue freight hauler slowed to a stop, transformed, and the robot walked into the abandoned lot across the road.

"Let's find out." Swindle answered before turning around toward Megatron. "I think he's here."

Megatron and Lugnut walked forward toward the window, Lugnut having to stoop low to see out of it. "Yeah, that's him alright." Lugnut muttered, and Megatron stepped closer to better get a look at this police officer. "That common-born slag the Pax's are keen on adopting. Oh, uh, no offense."

"Let's see if he figures it out." Megatron suggested as they watched, ignoring Lugnut's insult of commoners. They observed the red and blue robot scan the area, look intently at various things, they even had to clear away from the window several times as he turned toward the building, studying the area around him. After fifteen minutes he began scrutinizing several of the blocks of debris littering the site carefully. "There's no way…" Megatron's musing was silenced as the officer lifted two pieces and figured out how to connect them.

"Impossible." Sunstreaker muttered.

"Impressive." Megatron followed. "It's time we introduced ourselves." Moments later they were on the ground floor walking out through the front door. The police officer caught sight of them immediately but merely watched calmly as they approached him. "Greetings Officer Pax."

"Good afternoon." Orion Pax replied, nodding toward Lugnut. "Him I know, who are the rest of you?"

"Show some respe…" Lugnut started, but stopped as Megatron raised his hand to silence him.

The group continued walking toward the officer before stopping forty feet from him. Megatron smiled at Orion and responded. "I am Megatron of Tarn. This is Swindle of…Petrex, right?" Megatron noted Swindle's nod before continuing. "And these are Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, originally of Iacon."

Orion Pax looked them all over appraisingly, and then addressed them, starting with the brothers. "You two are suspected Autobots, and were initially suspected of having a hand in the assassination of Zeta Prime." Megatron glanced at them questioningly, smiling and nodding as though he was impressed before looking back at Orion, who was now addressing Swindle. "You have rap sheets in numerous emirates, the most extensive one in Ankmor. Your criminal organization in Petrex is fairly substantial." Pax then looked to Megatron. "And you, a person can't go anywhere in Polyhex these days without hearing whispers of the unstoppable Megatron."

"Impressive." Megatron replied. "It's an essential, but unfortunately rare trait for a Polyhexian law officer to be so well versed in criminal activity so far outside his jurisdiction."

Orion met Megatron's stare. "If the rumors are true, I hold jurisdiction over many of your crimes, Megatron of Tarn."

"Good." Megatron nodded approvingly. "Never back down to intimidation, at least as long as pretending to be scared isn't part of a greater plan."

"I know feinting, playing possum and other forms of deception are used in the pits," Orion replied, "but an elaborate fear hoax seems a bit much for a fistfight."

Megatron smiled. "Yes, it is. My aspirations extend well beyond the pits, and I'm thinking those aspirations might involve you in some way." Orion stared at him for a moment before looking down and giving in to a light chuckle. "You find this humorous?"

"I do." Orion answered, looking back up and locking optics with Megatron. "You're not the first criminal to try and recruit me."

Megatron nodded. "Yes, I assumed that the Overlord's motivation for not killing you was the same as my own. But my vision is not some underworld criminal empire for my own material gain. Oh, it will indeed be deemed illegal by the current laws of the land, but what I'm envisioning is a moral and ethical quest to improve this society in which we live. And unlike Overlord, my aspirations are things you and I share."

Orion continued staring at Megatron, a cynical look that seemed to run counter to the youthful features of his face was etched heavily on it. "I severely doubt that one who murders in the pits shares goals with me."

Megatron smirked. "I killed in the line of duty; something that I hear you can now relate to." The gladiator watched Orion's optics harden and held up his hands in an attempt to diffuse the situation. "Look, I'm confronting you in hopes of finding common ground and building both a professional relationship as well as a friendship. The gladiator pits are merely a staging point, a way for me to acquire resources, to come into contact with those who can help me facilitate my vision, and to travel the planet to find like-minded individuals."

Orion maintained his stare, but finally decided to get to the point. "Alright, tell me of this grand vision you think you and I share."

Megatron nodded. "I wish to wash away the established pecking order. To eliminate the royalty, the nobility, and any other notion of superiority derived from birth location." The chrome gladiator smiled as he noticed Orion's optics widen and the young officer appear to grow in excitement.

Orion looked to Sideswipe and Sunstreaker and nodded before turning his gaze back to Megatron. "So you share philosophies with the Autobots?"

Megatron shrugged and twisted his head before answering. "Some philosophies, yes, but we do deviate in many areas."

"Such as?"

Megatron stared at Orion for a moment before continuing. "The notion that all are equal. While I agree that the worth of an individual should have nothing to do with the circumstances of their birth, we are all not of equal worth, and it's absurd to treat us as though were are."

Orion shook his head. "No, I disagree. Yes, we all have varying aptitudes and abilities, but from the standpoint of our innate worth, we are all of equal value. That doesn't mean that I feel those that excel should not benefit from that excellence in certain areas, but from a legal standpoint, they should be treated no better or worse than an individual of lesser abilities."

"Our achievements as a society would soar were we not mired down by the needs of the sub-mediocre." Megatron stated. "The society the Autobots espouse would have the pace set by the slow."

"No, you're wrong." Orion replied. "The society the Autobots espouse would be one of compromise and compassion. True, we would be forced to slow down from time to time, but is that truly a terrible thing? There would be avenues and incentives for the exceptional, progress would be every bit as significant as that of your society, it would just possess a sense of social justice."

"The weak, the stupid, the slow, the useless; they consume so very much and contribute nothing." Megatron authoritatively stated. "I thought those in the Torus Heights were taught to revere nature. In nature these elements are culled for elimination, the herd is thinned, so that only the worthy can carry on and pass on their genetic traits."

"That's the society you envision, survival of the fittest?" Orion asked angrily.

"Yes." Megatron replied almost lustfully, but his face and voice took a softer tone as he continued. "More or less anyway. I'm not advocating execution for those on the top portion of the bell curve by any means, and by strength I'm not suggesting worth be based on literal strength. I mean, it's an advantageous trait, but one that is easily trumped by other forms of usefulness."

"Enough!" Orion waved him off. "You're suggesting the removal of one form of elitism for another."

"Yes, but the elitism I champion is for those that truly are elite!" Megatron growled. "Those who demonstrate actual worth, those that can advance or benefit society as a whole."

"You must realize that what you're suggesting is how most organized societies get their start." Orion countered. "Those that are strongest, or most equipped to lead for whatever reason, create a society from nothing, or replace an existing one. The monarch is chosen based on this strength, but over time those that succeed the monarch are chosen for other, less viable reasons. This idealized society organized by and for the seemingly most fit gets corrupted. Corrupted by nepotism, resource inequity, personal interest, and often times, unethical or even illegal means. I don't necessarily doubt that the Knights of Cybertron were the most fit to lead, but the utopia they supposedly created got corrupted. If you succeed, I have no doubt yours will as well."

"Fair point." Megatron smiled. "I guess I'll just have to take measures to prevent that."

"And what of those that don't demonstrate their worth to you?" Orion asked. "Those on the lower left slope of the bell curve, what becomes of them?"

Megatron met Orion's intense gaze. "You used the term utopia, not me. I never claimed the society I envision will be a paradise. Tough decisions will need to be made."

"You'll kill them?" Orion stared in disbelief. Unseen by the others, Sideswipe sent Sunstreaker a nervous glance. The yellow sibling pretended not to notice his brother's anxiety, but he knew…even he was undoubtedly feeling a little himself. "And you sit there, and rationalize it, and make it sound as neat and reasonable as garbage collection, sanitation or any other civic duty. But you're championing murder; murder in the millions…the tens of millions! Even Sentinel Prime would never make such a suggestion."

"Society would be better off…"

"You think making a statistical case for cutting head-count justifies mass murder?" An enraged Orion interrupted.

"YES!" Megatron roared, the outburst startling everyone present and causing Sideswipe to send his brother another nervous glance, one that this time was met with a look of revulsion from Sunstreaker.

"Whoah, hey there, let's all just settle down." Swindle stepped in to quell things a bit. "From what Megatron and Lugnut have said about you, you'd definitely thrive in Megatron's world. What's your issue?"

"So because I would be personally benefitted by a clearly unjust philosophy, I should support it?" Orion snapped. "I have an invitation to join House Pax in fourteen years, by your logic I should tell Megatron to slag off and happily embrace the status quo."

"You must know that's not an option." A much calmer but still agitated Megatron stated. "You do realize we didn't happen upon each other by chance." It wasn't a question, they were all aware of what this situation was. "You've been marked for death, but you already know this." Orion nodded. "I was ordered, by an emir no less, to kill you, and I know that this particular emir has no personal interest in you whatsoever, which tells me that someone above him ordered your death. There's only one person on the planet in a position to order an emir to do anything." Megatron gave Orion a look of compassion as he continued. "There's only one way to escape such a fate, and that's with me."

Orion knew that Sentinel Prime had it out for him, he knew that he was being put into situations designed to get him killed, but hearing it stated had a sobering effect. The leader of the planet, the most powerful being he was aware of, not only wanted him dead, but was orchestrating his murder. Fear, true hopelessness, entered Orion Pax for the first time in his life. He allowed himself to sink into the hopelessness for nearly a minute before forcing himself back to the surface. He wasn't dead yet, and while he still lived, there was hope. He looked back up at those standing before him, and saw Megatron, the hulking, heavily armored and enhanced gladiatorial legend, standing before him with his hand outstretched in invitation.

"Join us Orion." Megatron earnestly suggested.

"I…" Orion looked down as he paused, thought a bit, and looked back up, "I can't. I appreciate the offer, but there's no way that I could ever join you. Some of your ideas are good, some of your points are valid, but what you suggest, what you mean to do; I'm sorry, but I would sooner die than be a part of that. I would sooner die than not oppose that."

Megatron's outstretched fingers curled back and his hand returned to his side. "I truly wish that wasn't the case. I've read about you, I've learned all I can, and I exaggerate not when I tell you that I see you at my right hand. I see you as my equal. We should be side by side."

"My place is in front of you." Orion replied. "Forever keeping you from achieving the evil you hope to achieve."

"You know that you're leaving me with only one option?"

"Yes."

"You must also realize that you're significantly outclassed." Megatron stated. "I realize that you're a virtually unparalleled athlete; I was given a copy of your initial physical testing results, and," the gladiator paused, "they pretty much mirrored my own. But I've been enhanced, I've been immersed in martial arts training and actual combat with the most dangerous warriors on the planet,"

"And you have a numerical advantage." Orion interrupted. "I'm used to being outclassed, just ask Lugnut."

"You're lucky Ironhide showed up when he did, punk!" Lugnut roared.

Orion met his glare. "We both know that there was no way you were ever going to beat me, and had Ironhide not shown up, the only thing that would have kept me from pummeling you would have been my newborn uncertainty and compassion." Orion looked back down at Megatron. "I'm not a newborn anymore."

Megatron met his gaze. "You need not worry about my numerical advantage, at least, not once this has been done." Swindle drew a rifle than had been magnetically holstered to his back and pointed it at Orion. "Swindle here will relieve you of your firearm." Swindle stepped forward, rifle pointed at Orion's head. The officer carefully withdrew his ion rifle and held it out for the criminal to take. Swindle backed up to where he was before and looked up to Megatron, who turned his head to give his companions a sideways glance. "Slag off." With that the collection of criminals and gladiators backed up a couple dozen paces. Megatron turned back to Orion. "I'm tempted to ask you once again to join me, but that would be nothing more than an insult, so I won't. Know that I have no desire to do this."

"I'll be sure to put that in the arrest report." Orion replied right before getting his left arm up to block the massive right roundhouse. The initial punch was immediately followed by a left roundhouse, that was also blocked but the power of it sent Orion stumbling back. He was strong. Stronger than Lugnut. As strong as Overlord. This could go badly.

Megatron marched in a circle pattern around Orion, studying him. "You have good reflexes. Sometimes individuals test well, but when it comes to actual combat they aren't as fast as billed. Good to see you're as fast as me." Megatron charged in, but was immediately halted by a left jab he didn't see coming followed by a right roundhouse he couldn't react to because of the jab. The combination staggered him, and sent him stumbling back.

"I'm faster than you." Orion stated. "Perhaps initially you and I were the same, but after getting all that armor, I've got you on speed. If it's any consolation, you're a hair faster than Overlord."

Megatron grinned as he straightened up. "Good to know." He continued forward and began circling Orion once again. "You're right about the armor, it has slowed me down a fraction, but it has its benefits. For one, it's made me bigger." Megatron demonstrated his superior reach with some jabs that kept Orion back. "I'm guessing you're about twenty-two feet tall? That's about what I was pre-armor, and a similar frame. I'm two feet taller now, and a hell of a lot thicker. I've never really been one to crave the attention of femmes, but I can't help but notice I'm getting a lot more attention now."

"Already got a girl." Orion said as he swatted aside a jab and stepped in to deliver one of his own, which Megatron evaded and they resumed their circling. "Doubt she'll be impressed if I got some armor."

"It's more than just armor." Megatron replied as he charged in, battering through Pax's punches and blocks to slam his fist into his chest and then grab him and fling him to the ground. "It's presses too." Megatron gloated over the downed officer. "The presses enhanced my strength by a little over 5 percent."

Orion was immediately back on his feet. "Interesting. Let's see how much extra endurance that armor provides you." With that Orion charged in, slipped past a defensive jab of Megatron's and delivered a flurry of punches to Megatron's mid-section, immediately followed by an uppercut that sent Megatron flying back and crashing to the ground. Megatron's head snapped back up to deliver a glare to Orion. He then looked down to see a half dozen dents on his frame. "It's impressive, but you're hardly impervious."

"Playtime's over, Pax." Megatron snarled as he got back to his feet, and Orion nodded, his face taking on a look of equal anger and intensity. The two collided in a flurry of fists, knees, elbows and foreheads. A flurry of grappling holds and short range strikes melded into one another, the two healthy, handsome and well-maintained frames were quickly becoming battered-looking wrecks as they pummeled away at one another.

Sideswipe marveled at the fight. It was astounding how they were going at one another. He had seen footage of every pit fight Megatron had been in, and this was the first time he had witnessed the super warrior ever cut loose; it was the first time he had ever been tested. "This is the greatest fight I've ever seen." Sideswipe heard his brother mutter, and could only nod in reply.

The fight raged for over fifteen minutes, extremely even for every second of that time. But now differences were starting to show. Throughout most of the fight Orion would land maybe one more strike than Megatron with each barrage, but each of Megatron's strikes were heavier, and he was weathering the damage better than the police officer. By minute twenty it was clear that Orion had sustained more damage. He was still battering away and defending well, and the damage to Megatron was beyond significant, but the fight was taking a greater toll on the unenhanced police officer.

"Yield, and join me." Megatron demanded. "We should be doing this to the royalty, not each other."

"This is my chance to stop you before you have a chance to enact your genocidal ambitions." Orion spat. "You yield, and be taken into custody!"

"Slagging idiot!" Megatron charged and began battering the slightly smaller northerner. Orion battered back, but he had slowed to the point where he didn't see a monstrous overhand right come down on his temple, sending him to the ground. Orion started to force himself up, but a kick to the face sent him back down. Megatron reared back for another kick, but Orion rolled, then braced, then immediately shot up delivering an uppercut to Megatron's crotch plate. He almost simultaneously threw a left roundhouse that caught Megatron's chin, sending the gladiator to the ground.

Orion sprung on top of Megatron, and was instantly hammering down on his head. Sideswipe could see Megatron's optics dimming, and was suddenly optimistic about Orion's chance of victory. He knew he had arrived with Megatron, and was working for him, but after hearing the lengths the gladiator planned to go in his vision of a new world, he couldn't help but be repulsed. And this Officer Pax, while apparently some sort of noble, and having played a major role in capturing several of his comrades, appeared to have adopted the ideals of the Autobots, a group that Sideswipe was still, for the most part, loyal to.

So seeing Orion on the cusp of winning was a major source of relief. The thunderous straight right that erupted from Megatron to knock Orion off of him and back to the ground caused feelings of dismay to assert themselves. Megatron snapped back up and delivered a sweeping crescent kick that connected against Orion's jaw, sending him to the ground, barely moving. Megatron leapt onto him and began throwing punches, but he was slowed, the damage of Orion's previous assault was substantial, but he remained on top, hammering down on Orion until the police officer's movements ceased.

Megatron, exhausted, beaten, worn, looked down at his unmoving target. "Good-bye Orion Pax, you were my greatest opponent."

"You won, congratulations." An unknown voice stated authoritatively from behind Megatron's entourage. "Now get off him!"

They all turned to see a robot, one containing enough uncorrected wear and tear to make it clear he was older. Megatron struggled to turn, and at seeing the uninvited guest through his battered and cracked optics, smiled and started chuckling lightly through the pain. "Terminus, my old friend, how good it is to see you."

"Get off of him!" Terminus repeated his order.

"Hey Megatron, you want me to pummel this guy through the surface?" Lugnut grumbled as he took a threatening step toward Terminus.

"You do not give me orders, old man." Megatron growled, ignoring Lugnut's question.

"He's a good and noble man, an officer of the law, and I think it's safe to say, an opponent worthy of respect." Terminus replied, marching past Lugnut but stopping where the other three were. "I'm not sure if this was to prove something, if he was a threat to the tournament tonight, or what, but I will not let you kill him."

"Our relationship is officially at an end, Terminus." Megatron snarled. "Lugnut, do not hurt him, but get him away from here. Swindle, help him out, Terminus is a tough old coot."

"You heard him boys." Swindle muttered as he nudged Sideswipe to follow him. Sideswipe stared down at the unconscious and soon to be dead Orion Pax. He couldn't let this pass. Sideswipe looked down at the two rifles in Swindle's hands, and reached out for the ion rifle that had been Orion's. "Hey, what the…" Sideswipe yanked the rifle and delivered a head-butt to the bridge of Swindle's nose, getting possession of the rifle and sending the criminal to the ground.

"What the slag are you doing?" Sunstreaker yelled as he watched Sideswipe stomp on Swindle's head and take the other rifle. Sideswipe looked to Sunstreaker before tossing the other rifle.

"I'm doing this." Sideswipe asked, pointing the ion rifle at Lugnut's legs and opening fire. Lugnut collapsed, screaming out in pain. "Are you with me?"

Sunstreaker whirled around to cover the still kneeling Megatron with his rifle. "You stupid asshole! What the hell are you thinking?"

"We're not going to be a part of some kill squad!" Sideswipe growled back as he bent over the dazed but still conscious Swindle and drove the butt of the ion rifle into his face, knocking him out.

"Oh screw you, you self-righteous shit!" Sunstreaker yelled. "It'd be the ugly, stupid, misshapen and slow twats. Who cares?"

"You stupid dick, Megatron isn't talking about you having a better domicile than every weakling with a two-digit IQ," Sideswipe growled as he marched toward Megatron, who was slowly forcing himself to a standing position, "he wants us to slagging murder them!" Sideswipe stopped before Megatron and looked up into his red optics. "And I can't let you kill this guy. Sorry boss, I quit." Megatron opened his mouth to say something, but four rounds tearing into his leg from Sunstreaker's rifle kept his words from coming out. He collapsed back to the ground.

"Take Officer Pax and leave now." Terminus said as he slowly approached the siblings. "If you attack Megatron any further, you'll have to contend with me."

Sunstreaker gave the old man a of look humorous disbelief before pointing the weapon at him. "Sunstreaker, no." Sideswipe said. "He's right; we need to get Pax out of here."

"Oh, and go where?" Sunstreaker snapped.

Sideswipe shrugged. "I think I remember hearing about a couple of Autobot cells in Polyhex. I could probably sniff one out." With that Sideswipe tossed the ion rifle to Sunstreaker and transformed. "Mount him on me, make sure he's secure, and let's head out."

"You just slaggin' killed us, you know?" Sunstreaker snarled at his brother, but walked over to Orion Pax, locking optics with Megatron as he passed. Megatron remained silent, glaring at the yellow robot as he hoisted Orion onto the red street racer and secured him as best he could, wedging the rifles in there as well before transforming himself. The two street racers sped off, and Megatron's heated gaze shifted away from them and locked onto Terminus.


	9. Chapter 9

Soundwave

The large blue royal peered out the window of the well-appointed room, a fortress that House Torrent had acquired a few million years back to enhance their House's authority in the southern half of Praxus. The emirate straddled the equator, which despite being an imaginary line, really did seem to create a schism in terms of cultures, behaviors, philosophies, and virtually everything else. A few hundred miles north loyalty to the Torrents was absolute, the faith of Primus was held devoutly, and belief in the beneficence of the Prime and Senate was unquestioned. Here in Kalis, near the southern border of Praxus, they followed the faith of The Guiding Hand, all but scoffed at the authority of House Torrent, and bore cynical, distrusting attitudes and resentments toward the 'northern' government. And beyond these broad strokes was the vast myriad of other cultural values and behaviors that separated the northern portion of the planet from the southern, and they all were glaringly present in the emirate of Praxus.

The southern flavor of Kalis did not sit well with Soundwave's guest, the darkly colored Rabattus Decimus, who was standing in front of the window glaring out at the denizens milling about in the streets below. "How does it not drive you insane, lording over subjects who are polytheistic southern anarchists?" Soundwave merely continued peering out the window from his seat on the long couch in the center of the room. "Still, I suppose for what we wish to accomplish we need a little southern gumption."

Soundwave turned his visor toward his guest. "What is it we wish to accomplish? I thought we were already accomplishing the expansion of the gladiatorial circuit into new markets."

"Bah," Rabattus grumbled as he turned away from the window and marched back to the center of the room, taking a seat on a couch across from Soundwave, "merely the start. A very profitable endeavor, but I have come to see this as a staging point to so much more." Rabattus leaned forward and smiled at the other Royal. "I'd like to discuss it with you, but only after our guests have come and gone." The arrogant robot leaned back and looked at the door opposite the window. "Speaking of our guests, where are those commoners."

"Starscream is of House Nexus now." Soundwave corrected, noting the dismissive look washing over Rabattus's face.

"He is, and always will be, a common-born whelp." Rabattus grumbled. "Being pretty enough to impress an emir to the point of adding a name to the House rolls doesn't change that."

"They have arrived." Soundwave replied, ending Rabattus's rant, earning him a look of confusion. "The crew at the landing pad radioed ahead. They'll be here in moments." True to the prediction, less than a minute later there was a sharp knock at the door. "Enter."

Starscream walked through the opening door, followed a moment later by a battered looking and limping Megatron. "Greetings my lords." Starscream jovially addressed them.

"Greetings to you, my lord." Rabattus replied with a forced smile, then nodding to Megatron. "And hello, Megatron of Tarn. You look…rather weathered. I was not aware that you were on the card last night."

"I was not." Megatron replied with a courteous smile, that while forced, appeared more genuine than the one displayed by Rabattus. "My injuries were due to a matter not related to the pits."

"I knew you Tarnians were feisty, but Primus, who, what and how many did you pick a fight with?" Rabattus asked, looking down as the scorch marks and lacerations on the armor of his legs. "Whoever they were, they clearly didn't play fair."

Megatron held his smile as he noted that there were two couches and a chair, the couches occupied by Soundwave and Rabattus, and he watched as Starscream slipped down into the chair. The commoner shrugged as he continued standing. "I'm not at liberty to discuss the specifics."

"Don't bother pressing him for further details, his trap remained shut the entire trip here." Starscream added mirthfully.

"As long as he's in fighting shape for tomorrow night's tournament, we shouldn't care what he does in his free time." Rabattus Decimus replied, and watched the door slide shut. "On to business."

"Yes, about business," Megatron stated uneasily, "I would like to point out that my loyalties lie with Emir Macht, and as such, I don't think it appropriate that we discuss plans involving the fight circuit without his, Emir Modus, Emir Onyx or any of the other impacted high lords' knowledge."

Rabattus smiled and nodded. "Of course. Your devotion to your liege lord is admirable, but we are not here to make any changes to the fighting circuit. Merely ways to protect it; ways that may involve tactics that some of these high lords would rather not have knowledge of."

"What are we talking about here?" Starscream questioned.

Rabattus gave each of them a look before continuing. "The fact is that due to the drastic increase in the circuit's size, popularity and influence in recent months, there is no longer any way to maintain its secrecy. Even prior to the surge in popularity, law enforcement was aware of its existence, but now it's gotten so big that the possibility of infiltration is undeniably real."

"It may have already happened." The commoner said nonchalantly.

"What?" Rabattus turned to him shocked. "Explain."

"Just a guess, but I came into contact with two gladiators, two brawlers from Iacon who had formerly been Autobots, and who I found out later had been suspects in the murder of Zeta Prime." Megatron explained, Soundwave noting a slight flare in Rabattus's optics. "I didn't have a chance to go over this with them as they showed their true colors and…disappeared with a target I was trying to…well, let's just say they interrupted what I was planning on doing. That's beside the point. The point is that when I later asked their former employer what he knew about them, he said that one had been arrested, was nearly charged, but was cut loose right before they sought him out to join the circuit. He swears he interrogated them and that they passed muster, but us fighters, we're of a different breed. When something matters, our ability to ignore pain…, well, a crime lord surrounded by bodyguards and ill-gotten comforts wouldn't understand. It's just a theory, but the possibility exists that the police had these guys over a barrel despite knowing they weren't guilty of Zeta Prime's murder, and made a deal involving them infiltrating the pits."

"I know those guys," Starscream chuckled, then turned to Rabattus, "your kinsman Mirage nearly burnt a circuit when they weren't killed in the pits a couple months back."

"All the more reason we need to give the establishment something else to focus on." Rabattus grumbled, ignoring Starscream's observation. "I had hoped that the Autobots would provide more of a distraction than they have, especially with the public execution of several of them taking place tomorrow, but so far they've been a major disappointment. Just an uptick in their regular innocuous civil disobedience, nothing to get and hold the attention of the higher authorities. I need them to be more…compelling."

"What do you have in mind?" Soundwave asked.

"It's time for the Autobots to graduate from annoying anarchists to villainous terrorists." Rabattus replied, looking up to Megatron. "Since joining the circuit, you've come into contact with all types, haven't you?"

Megatron nodded. "I have."

"Good, evaluate your contacts, if they can be trusted, enlist their aid and resources, but inform them of only what they need to know, nothing more, and certainly nothing that can link them to anyone above you." Rabattus ordered. "I want horror, death, destruction; things that will command the government's full attention. And I want Autobot guilt to be beyond question. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Clearly my lord." Megatron replied. "And should I need resources?"

Rabattus nodded. "Let Soundwave know what you want, he can come to me, and I'll see to it that you have everything you need." The dark royal leaned forward. "Do this, and you will be all but running the gladiatorial circuit. If Macht doesn't give you lands and a title, I will."

"Understood my lord, a most gracious offer. I will not disappoint." Megatron replied.

"Good." Rabattus leaned back into the couch. "Now leave us, both of you." He dismissively commanded, indicating both Megatron and Starscream. Megatron nodded and turned to leave, but Starscream displayed a look of shock and indignation. "Please, my lord." Rabattus requested more graciously of the adopted royal. "We will be out to discuss the progress of the circuit and enjoy some entertainment shortly."

Starscream was still clearly agitated at being asked to leave, but at the more proper dismissal he rose and headed toward the door with Megatron. "So be it. You don't mind if we help ourselves to some engex, do you Lord Soundwave?"

"By no means, enjoy. Please let the servants know that Megatron is to be treated as though here were a highborn guest." Soundwave replied.

"You are most gracious my lord." Megatron replied with a knowing grin as he left.

Once the door sealed shut Rabattus groaned. "That WAS very gracious of you, Soundwave."

"He is a vital component to our gladiatorial endeavor, and will be more so in the near future." Soundwave explained. "Plus he has traveled a long way to be here. Seems only appropriate that I extend the complete hospitality of my House to him."

"He has proven useful, I'll give him that." Rabattus admitted. "But he's a filthy commoner, as is Starscream, no matter what that smitten fool Pathos Nexus declares. They're nothing but vermin, the both of them. Megatron is just a big…rat, and Starscream, he's nothing more than a rat capable of flight."

"A bat." Soundwave explained, suppressing any outward sign of the inexplicable rage he felt toward Rabattus. He wanted to leap up and throttle the conniving high born snob for insulting Megatron.

"Yes," Rabattus continued, "a rat and a bat. Filthy creatures."

Soundwave's glare was heated, he was unable to completely hide his rage. A rat and a bat. The greatest Cybertronian he had ever known, a being he was completely loyal to, referred to as a rat. He was only the slightest bit cognizant of his fortune at having a face that was nearly impossible to read. He calmed enough so that his voice betrayed nothing of his true feelings. "So what was it you wished to discuss once they left?"

Rabattus peered deeply into Soundwave's linked optics for a long moment before answering. "I wish to undermine Sentinel Prime, to the point where he is removed and replaced with someone more…sympathetic to our needs and desires."

Soundwave silently stared at the other royal before finally responding. "A living Prime has never been removed from power by anyone other than himself. Is that even possible?"

"Yes." Rabattus smiled. "The Senate has the power to impeach and remove the Prime. There's entire chapters of the constitution dedicated to treatment of the Matrix; basically if the Prime shows affinity to it and no one else does then he gets to keep it, which is moot as the Matrix no longer exists, but the important part is that the authority wielded by a Prime can be removed, and another 'interim' Prime can be elected until the Matrix selects another. It was something that the southern emirates insisted upon when Guardian Prime was putting together the new Senate and constitution; which is odd given that two previous Primes had originated from the south. But anyway, yes, Sentinel can be legally removed. And if that doesn't work, there are other ways to remove him from power. I just want to create an environment where when that happens, however it happens, his removal won't cause an uproar."

"That is very ambitious." Soundwave commented. "He is very popular, many see him as far more fit to be Prime than Zeta ever was."

"Popularity is fleeting." Rabattus replied with a smile. "Especially when you repeatedly make questionable decisions, and the world you're in charge of is spiraling into chaos."

"His handling of the Polarun police cadet, the one affiliated with House Pax, was poorly handled, and the secret trial and rushed death sentence of the Autobots has raised many an optic-brow and caused official objections from many nobles and even Arlon Pax himself, but beyond those minor issues, none of his decisions has raised any questions." Soundwave remarked.

"His questionable decisions have just begun." Rabattus explained. "He's a hothead, a slave to his temper and his feelings of superiority and entitlement. And I now have his ear, and I know just how to play him."

"Why are you telling me this?" Soundwave asked. "You're taking a great risk. Participation in this gladiatorial circuit does not mean I'm on board with overthrowing the Prime."

"You have no love for Sentinel Prime," the dark royal answered, "and you have too much to lose by stepping forward to make non-specific accusations against me that you couldn't hope to substantiate. Besides, for some reason I trust you; and I need the help of someone I trust to see this through." Rabattus leaned forward and intensified his gaze. "I can trust you, can't I Soundwave of House Torrent?"

Soundwave met the gaze silently for a dozen seconds before replying. "Yes Lord Decimus, you can trust me."

Orion Pax

Blurred light would intrude from time to time, but for the most part it was just the blissful, disorienting blackness. The thoughts he had were jumbled, fragmented; at least that's how they seemed as he couldn't seem to lock on to any of them, and any recollection of them was futile, at least until now. Awareness was just now coming back, as were his other senses. The light was becoming more intrusive and insistent, and the seemingly distant words; dull blobs of noise bouncing off of his audio processors, slowly seemed to be taking shape.

"Eeees umming nline."

"ott sssible"

"Eee is. Brain waves normal…progressing toward exceptional."

"How can that be?" The other voice, one almost young sounding, asked. "When the brothers brought him here he was nearly dead."

There was slight bumping, as if they were in a moving vehicle, but that observation was put aside as the intrusive bright light became less blurred and more focused. This made it more uncomfortable, but he was starting to make out details. A large portion of that light, the center section coming from directly above him, was suddenly darkened. He squinted through the shadow to make out the shape that had blocked the light. A head, the details slowly coming into focus. Helmet; that eliminated only protoforms. Two eyes; blue. No face…no, a faceplate, one segmented and covering everything below the optics. And most distinctive, two crests, one on either side of the head…that were suddenly glowing.

"This common-born royal is one resilient specimen." The voice emerged from the head above him, but didn't seem to be emanating through the faceplate. "Sideswipe was right," Sideswipe! Megatron's lackey. He had been taken prisoner. "this is one tough bast…" Orion's hand shot up and gripped this robot's throat. Why wasn't he shackled?

"Whoah, Wheeljack!" The other, youthful voice cried out. "Stop! Let him go!"

Orion lurched up to a sitting position, lifting the robot in his grasp off his feet. He spotted one other robot in the small room, a mobile medical bay from what he could tell, one poorly equipped. The other robot, a small yellow robot with tiny horns on his helmet; nubs really, was fearfully pressed against the wall, as if trying to pull away as far as he could in this confined space. This was the guard Megatron had assigned to keep him from trying to break free? A fearful, ten-foot youngster? The youngster appeared to overcome his fear, at least enough to take action, and lunged at Orion. He latched onto the arm that Orion was clutching the other robot with, the one likely designated Wheeljack. He was far more interested in freeing this Wheeljack than he was in subduing his prisoner. Orion pondered his situation as both robots hung from his right arm; one clasping onto to it, the other clasped by it. No shackles, inadequate guard, in a med-bay that seemed ill-equipped in terms of not just medical supplies and equipment, but in security or apparent surveillance measures as well.

Orion released the larger, predominantly white robot and watched as the yellow one let go and immediately went to check on his comrade. "Wheeljack, you OK buddy?"

Wheeljack ignored the inquiry into his wellbeing and quickly looked up at Orion, his hands raised submissively in an attempt to calm him. "Hey, easy big guy, we're not trying to hurt you. In fact, we're repairing you…at least what little your own systems are letting us help with."

Orion studied them and nodded. "I apologize for the assault, my last memories involved a fight with Megatron, who seemed to be on the fence about whether he wanted to kill me or recruit me. As I came to you mentioned the name Sideswipe, who was with him during the fight. I made the assumption that I had been taken prisoner."

"Perfectly understandable." Wheeljack muttered as he got to his feet. "I'm Wheeljack, this is Bumblebee, and you're not a prisoner."

Orion looked them over, and noted that they bore brands depicting the Face of the Common Man, the image adopted by the Autobots to symbolize their movement. "You're Autobots."

"I hope that isn't a problem, Lord Pax." Bumblebee grumbled as he stepped away from Wheeljack, giving Orion a glare.

"I…I don't understand." Orion muttered. "Megatron made it clear that he was not in league with the Autobots."

"He's not." Wheeljack explained. "Swipe had a crisis of conscience and decided he couldn't let Megatron murder you."

"Oh, and the other one, Sunstreaker?" Orion began trying to envision what had happened to him.

"He has no conscience." Bumblebee grumbled.

"But he did help Sideswipe." Wheeljack added. "They even recovered your ion rifle." The white robot walked over to several lockers behind the slab that Orion was still sitting on and opened one, pulling out the rifle and handing it to Orion.

"Are you nuts?" Bumblebee protested loud and indignantly. "He's the reason Blaster, Jazz and the rest are going to be executed tomorrow!"

Orion's optics darted up from his rifle to Bumblebee's. "What?"

"Don't play dumb with us, Lord Pax, we know full well that you're the one that captured them!" Bumblebee shot back.

"They're to be executed? Tomorrow?" Orion demanded clarification.

"Sentinel Prime held a rushed, unannounced trial in that kangaroo court he calls a senate." Wheeljack explained as he walked back to the rear portion of the trailer they were being transported in, the section in front of the slab with Bumblebee. "Your House raised a formal protest, and managed to even get a few nobles and organizations to voice their disagreement, but for the most part the powers that be are just happy to make some Autobots go away."

"Where and when is the execution taking place?" Orion asked.

"Tomorrow night, in the Senate Forum." Bumblebee growled. "We've passed Kaon, so we should be entering the Tagan Heights within a couple hours. You can catch a rapid transport from there and be in Cybertropolis with plenty of time to spare to watch this travesty of justice."

"If the brothers are right, Cybertropolis, or anywhere in Nova Cronum, will be as dangerous for him as Polyhex." Wheeljack explained to Bumblebee before turning to Orion. "We're smuggling you out of Polyhex, in case you were wondering where you are. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are taking a different way out of the emirate, but we'll be meeting them at the Rapid Transport Terminal in Glibax. We'll make a few aesthetic alterations to your face and frame on the way, and when we get there you can get transport back to the Torus Heights."

Orion looked intently at Wheeljack. "Please provide me every detail regarding the trial and the plans for the executions. Every detail you have."

A-Three

"Primon!"

Not again. Not that voice. Not this place. Not again. A-Three recognized what was happening. It had been a long time since this particular vision; memory relived in spark-screaming vividness, had haunted his recharge hours.

"Primon, tell me you still function! Tell me your spark still pulses!" The massive voice of the massive monster carried through the hills of corpses. The dead of both sides covered the ground so heavily that the metal, stone or dirt of Cybertron's surface was no longer visible. The voice was calling out from the other side of a downed aerial troop transport three hundred yards away. Primon pushed himself off of the three-headed canine he had finally succeeded in killing; a victory that had been hard-fought and that came with a high price. The Prime limped carefully toward the craft, hoping to see and evaluate the situation on the other side. "Tell me your spark still pulses so that I can feel it throbbing in my hand! It's final pulses tickling my palm as I squeeze it into oblivion as I did with Prima!"

Poor Justicia. His fluid still ran cold when he remembered what this beast had done to her. She had been brilliant, courageous, amazing on every front. Justicia Ambus had been born to be Prime. And she had died because of it. Because of him! Because of Saurus Onyx, or Deathsaurus as he had taken to calling himself before starting his first rebellion two and a half million years before. He had torn the planet in half then, but through the grace of Primus and the wisdom granted by his Matrix, Alpha Trion had become Primon, and he had been able to lead his armies to victory over the Nyonian beasts. The peace had lasted nearly two million years, half of it under the rule of Primon, and upon discovering Justicia Ambus's affinity to the Matrix, he had stepped aside so that the other half would be under the rule of Prima.

Then, five hundred thousand years ago, Deathsaurus rose back again with his armies and tore into the planet in ways that made his previous rebellion look like a minor skirmish. He eventually drew Prima out into battle, and slaughtered her in front of her captive troops. Deathsaurus held the Matrix captive, declaring victory and dominion over the planet. Alpha of House Trion could no longer sit back and let others do his job; Alpha Trion could no longer exist. Primon was needed, and even without the Matrix, Primon still held the loyalty of all those willing to oppose Deathsaurus.

Hundreds of thousands of years of warfare had led to this battle. It had lasted months, and from what he could tell, it would end today. One way or another, the war ended today. Primon reached the downed and still smoldering craft and peered around it. The great winged dragon stomped down on the corpses of friend and foe alike. In the distance other portions of the battle raged, but were winding down. He could fly out and ensure victory for his side in each of these outlying skirmishes, but he knew Primon was there. He knew Primon still lived, and Deathsaurus valued nothing more than the pleasure of killing a Prime with his own claws. "Face me Primon!"

Primon looked around at the dead and their final possessions. There was no shortage of weapons in the debris, but finding one that could damage or destroy this beast, that was the trick. Physically Primon was nowhere near a match for this creature. He was huge, thirty feet tall in robot mode, even larger in beast mode, and according to his boasts, boasts Primon had no doubt possessed merit, he was one of the tiny few to possess an anomalous green spark that enhanced the frame it occupied to virtually super-Cybertronian levels. Alpha Trion's frame had been enhanced by the Matrix, but even Primon had nowhere near Deathsaurus's power, and though not all, much of the enhancement provided by the Matrix left him as Justicia Ambus became Prima. If he had any chance of defeating Deathsaurus, he would need a weapon of extreme potency.

Finding nothing on the ground around him that would do more than scratch the beasts skin, Primon looked up to see a gun turret on the downed craft. "Primon! Face me coward!" The dragon turned away and called out for him on the other direction, allowing Primon a few moments to quietly crawl into the ship and work his way toward the turret, silently praying that the canon was still functional and that the ammunition hadn't been depleted or scavenged. He climbed his way to the gunner's seat and performed a quick examination. "There are a few of your soldiers still clinging to life, Primon! I will start torturing them if you don't come out and face me!" It appeared to work, and had four rounds designed to puncture the armored walls of Fort Trypticon, the fortress Deathsaurus called home three miles in the distance. With this he could kill Deathsaurus. "Primon!"

The gun turret rotated up toward the winged dragon, who heard the whirring and turned its bestial head to see Primon staring back at him through the cracked transparent metal bubble over the canon. Primon displayed a smile as he pulled the trigger, sending a round hurtling toward the startled dragon. Unfortunately the canon had been damaged, and instead of blasting through the beast's chest, it obliterated one of his wings. "Aaarrgghhh!" It was a painful shot, and the pain provided a distraction that Primon hoped would be long enough for him to adjust his aim and take a second shot. He fired a second time, but Deathsaurus leapt, avoiding a killing shot but getting his left leg blasted off. He fell to the ground, where a third round tore through his upper bestial torso. He survived, as his spark was based lower than where the round had struck, but the damage was catastrophic.

A final round blasted through his lower torso, missing his spark chamber, but causing enough damage to make it clear he would not be recovering. The dying beast watched as his long-time adversary dropped out of the bubble-like turret and collapse to the ground. The battle had taken its toll on Primon, that was for certain, but these were injuries he would recover from. He would claim victory, he would reclaim Cybertron. This was a fate Deathsaurus could not allow the first Prime.

Primon limped forward, plucking up a rifle off of a fallen Nyonian warrior and continued on to finish off Deathsaurus. "Nova Onyx, come in."

"Primon, this is Nova Onyx. Where are you?" The voice came through a speaker on Primon's wrist.

"Three miles to the south of Trypticon." Primon replied. "Both armies are virtually wiped out here, but I have Deathsaurus. He's mortally wounded, and I'm seconds away from finishing the job. What's your status?"

"We're on the cusp of breaching the fortress, sir!" Nova answered. "This is a glorious day! Prima would be so proud of you!"

"She would be proud of us all, Lord Onyx." Primon smiled. "Finish with the taking of Trypticon, find and recover the Matrix, and we'll meet later. Primon out." Primon stopped thirty feet from Deathsaurus, glaring down at him.

"Tha…that wa…that was my treacherous kinsman, wasn't it?" Deathsaurus growled.

"Nova is a great soldier, a great leader, a great friend, and a credit to your House." Primon snarled. "Pray, for the sake of House Onyx, that it is his deeds that are remembered, not yours." Primon raised the rifle and pointed it at the beast's smiling maw. A moment later he was awash with waves of intense flames that caused his face and upper torso to explode in a torrent of agony and everything to go black, only the sound of the flames and laughter surrounding it could be heard as he lost consciousness, only to suddenly snap upright on his dormancy slab in Tyger Pax. The Polyhistor tried to relax, feeling the pulsing of his spark and willing it to slow, but was interrupted by a slight buzz on his personal communicator. He looked down to see that the incoming call was from a scrambled line. "Who is this?" He quietly demanded.

"A-Three, it's Orion."

"Orion my lad, we've been so worried for you." A-Three said anxiously as he slid off his slab and started walking toward the door. "Torenia and Roller were contacted by a frantic Elita Solus yesterday evening hoping that either of them had received word from you. Needless to say, the House is frantic, Roller has been inundating Captain Momus…"

"A-Three, please listen, I don't have much time." Orion interrupted. "Don't let anyone know you've spoken to me."

"Are you mad?" A-Three asked defiantly but stopped himself from leaving his suite. "Your family, as well as Lady Elita…"

"I understand, but for their own sake they need to be as ignorant of my whereabouts and situation as possible." Orion interrupted again. "Frankly I feel terrible for involving you, but I need a favor."

"Anything Orion." A-Three replied.

"Hold off on agreeing until you hear what I'm about to ask of you." Orion warned.

"No." A-Three snapped back. "For anyone else, I might require evaluation, but anything you need of me, regardless of consequence, I will do. Now tell me what it is I can help you with."

Metalhawk

The call with the cell commanders had taken place in an abandoned tenement on the outskirts of Glibax, and though expected, the final course of action decided upon in the call left Metalhawk, and all other cell leaders, feeling empty and disgusted with themselves. To be fair, they had analyzed every scenario in painstaking detail, considered every possibility, regardless of how outlandish and unlikely, but every possible outcome was of varying shades of disaster. Even Getaway had no viable suggestion on how to get them out. It was an impossible task, one they needed a miracle to perform, but the gods, whether Primus, or the members of The Guiding Hand, or some other deity, had refused to aid them in this endeavor.

Metalhawk smiled at the irony of thinking of the gods as he walked by a church; one of the Houses of the Hand, the faith that he held. His destination was one of the small storage buildings lined up just beyond the church, and as he walked by he admired the intricate designs carved into the metal, particularly the one depicting the five members of the Hand, Amunus, Solomus, Epistimus, Mortilus and Adaptus, standing over the throngs of their initial generation of created Cybertronians, the first mechanical beings in a world of organics. According to his faith, the members of the Hand were all different aspects of the great creator Mazdas, who separated himself for reasons unknowable to his created. Several of his monotheistic friends, typically other Autobots from the north, have suggested that there is no hand, that Mazdas and Primus are one in the same. Like other polys, the term used by many monotheistic followers of Primus to describe the followers of The Hand, Metalhawk merely laughed and dismissed the possibility. At least he used to laugh. The new Emir of the Tagan Heights seemed to have recently developed a streak of Primal zealotry that many polytheists in the emirate feared would pose a threat to their faith.

Metalhawk shelved this line of thinking as unlikely as he walked by the giant carving that covered the vast majority of the temple's wall, paying special attention not to the gods, but to the created. There were hundreds of individuals, all possessing unique bodies, but all of their faces were one of the five faces that represented the different roles in Cybertronian society; the Nurturer, the Smith, the Warrior, the Stranger, and the Common Man. There were slight variations to represent gender, but otherwise the faces were identical to other faces within their group. Metalhawk's optics rested on one of the characters with a common man face, the emblem chosen by the Autobots to represent their cause, one identical to the one on his chest that was currently hidden by a panel.

He finally reached the storage facility where the other Autobots were supposed to be waiting for him. He opened the door, was greeted by a stern face, but at seeing it was him the Autobot at the door stepped back, allowing him to enter. Metalhawk walked through the crowd to the front, turned and faced them all. They were all looking up at him expectantly, eagerly waiting for him to say what they were hoping for him to say; expecting him to say. The two-dozen commoners that represented cells from all over the western portions of The Tagan Heights were champing at the bit to hear the plan to rescue their comrades that were slated to be executed just hours from now in Cybertropolis. Unfortunately he couldn't tell them what they wanted to hear, as no such plan existed.

They'd spent weeks trying to come up with some way to get Blaster's crew out of the prison, especially when word of their pseudo-secret convictions and death sentences had reached them, but the prison was too well guarded, the Senate Forum was just as much, and the one opportunity they had, when the prisoners were transported from Iacon to Cybertropolis prior to their trial, occurred without their notice. They were outgunned, outnumbered, had little knowledge of the facilities, and despite an abundance of will, they lacked even a fraction of the means needed to have a prayer of pulling this off. It was Metalhawk's job to make this clear to them, the rank and file Autobots who fought every day for a cause they had little chance of ever gaining any ground on.

"Thank you all for coming." He addressed them with a smile. The few collections of whispers that had been present immediately ceased, and all Autobots stared up at him ready to hear what Metalhawk had to say. "Tonight our brothers are set to be murdered, and Sentinel Pr…", no, he was unworthy, "Sentinel Honorum, in is unmitigated gall, has chosen to broadcast the executions to send a message. A message to us, and those who would dare to feel sympathetic to our cause."

There were grumbles throughout the small crowd, but all was interrupted as a door was thrown open and two brightly colored forms entered the expanse. "Prowl can eat a pipe." The red robot, who Metalhawk recognized from inter-Autobot dossiers as the Iaconian deserter Sideswipe, blurted out to his comrade, a yellow robot that intel identified as his spark-spliced sibling and fellow deserter Sunstreaker. Of course, according to the message transmitted from one of the Polyhexian cells, the deserter label might be less cut and dried than previously thought.

"He's going to shove pipes up our exhaust ports when he finds us." Sunstreaker growled, the two of them still oblivious to the meeting that they had interrupted. "Months of undercover bullshit for nothing; they're going to pin Zeta on us after all."

"Screw 'em, let 'em, I'm done kowtowing to self-important bit…"

"Enough!" Metalhawk roared. "Even were you in good standing, which the two of you most definitely are not, you do not barge in here blathering away while a meeting is going on."

The brothers looked up and both shrugged and replied in unison. "Sorry."

"Sir," a comment from Electro, a yellow Autobot in the front of the cluster of robots called out hesitantly, "how are we getting them out?"

Metalhawk looked at Electro sadly, then raised his gaze to take in the entire group. "We're not."

"What?" Electro's gasped question was echoed by virtually everyone else in the room.

"It would be suicide." Metalhawk replied, making sure the level of authority in his voice was adequate. "We would hit, we would be stopped, we would be either killed or imprisoned, and Blaster, Jazz, Perceptor, Trailbreaker, Pyro, Steeljaw, Hoist, Bluestreak, Cliffjumper, Smokescreen, Huffer, Rewind and Guzzle would all be publicly executed despite our best efforts."

"Tarpanicus shit!" Sideswipe roared. "So what are we planning on doing, paint protest graffiti?"

Metalhawk glared at the red Autobot in questionable standing before replying. "Hubcap has figured out a way to hijack a communications signal temporarily, and we've put together a loop of propaganda footage that will air instead of the execution for several channels."

"That'd be great to preempt the Ibex Cup with, but these are our friends!" Sunstreaker snarled, but then smiled and continued. "Well, some are his friends," he thumbed at Sideswipe, "I personally can't stand to be around Blaster, but they're our comrades, so sorry, your plan sucks bearings."

"That's enough out of the both of you!" Metalhawk roared. "Much smarter beings than you have analyzed every possible attack, every possible infiltration, every possible everything! And they came up with nothing viable, so shut the hell up or get out! There's no way we can get in there, extract the prisoners, and get out of there!"

The door was pushed open again, prompting everyone to turn nervously toward it. "I believe you're wrong." The stranger walking in stated authoritatively. The Autobots all postured to engage him, but Wheeljack and Bumblebee walking behind him gave them all pause.

"Whoah, why aren't you on a transport to Polarus with a fake beard?" Sideswipe shot.

"And what are you doing walking around?" Sunstreaker added. "You should be sipping energon through a straw for the next month, not busting in here and arresting those who saved your ass!"

"Wait, Polarus?" Metalhawk questioned. "You mean to tell me this is the Rodion royal cop?" He glared at Wheeljack and Bumblebee. "You brought a slagging royal here? Have you completely glitched?"

"I'm not here to arrest you." The newcomer, Orion Pax, stated loudly, the statement failing to convince the Autobots present. "I'm here to help save your friends. But we must leave for Cybertropolis immediately."

"You're the one that pinched them!" Sideswipe snapped.

"Yes, something I plan to undo." Orion replied. "But as I said, we need to hurry."

"Enough!" Metalhawk yelled out. "You're either here to lead us into a trap, or you're on the level but deluded and plan on a course of action that will lead to failure." He locked optics with Orion. "It appears that my two comrades, who normally display a more than adequate amount of good sense, led you here of their own volition, and I am aware of Prime turning on you and your subsequent fall from grace. And I read Wheeljack's report stating that an attempt on your life had been made by levels at least as high as Emir Macht, and possibly Sentinel Prime himself. So I'm not entirely closed to the possibility that you may genuinely wish to aid us. And if you pass scrutiny, we'd be happy to have you. But for you to barge in here and insist that an objective our best and brightest deemed impossible is something we must fight to achieve is absurd. I know you have potential, Lord Pax," the Autobot let the title hang in the air to add to his status as an outsider among these commoners, "but as of now you wield no authority with us. In fact, given your status as a member of a royal house and member of law enforcement, we'd be crazy not to kill you or at least beat you into a coma and abandon you in the tenements a couple miles away."

Orion nodded as he held Metalhawk's gaze. "I recognize what I am, and how unlikely it seems that one with a royal name would not only wish to assist, but to join the Autobots. But I have not been admitted into any House, and in fourteen years when I'm legally able to, I will refrain from doing so. I have long held with the ideals of the Autobots, I dare say I know them better than many of you," the comment garnered more than a few angry groans, "Blaster was happy to teach me, and I am ready to renounce my affiliation with the government's police force, and…" Orion paused hesitantly, but continued, "and my name as well."

"Naw man, keep it." Sideswipe blurted out, and noted everyone turning to look at him, which caused him to shrug and gave a goofy look. "An Autobot named Pax is propaganda gold!"

"Actually, he's right." Metalhawk muttered. "Keep the name."

Orion looked up. "When it comes to the name, I will respect the wishes of Arlon and House Pax. I wish to do them no harm beyond the removal of the caste system they're a part of. I may wish to become an Autobot, but I will always respect House Pax."

"Had you said that about any other House, I'd tell you to get the hell out," Metalhawk replied, "but you wouldn't be the first Autobot to have a soft spot for the Pax's. But I've already told you we'd be open to looking into you joining us, that I may consider you to be on the level. It's that you plan to get us compromised and killed with a suicidal plan that's caused the friction. If our best and brightest couldn't figure out how to pull it off, you can't figure out how to pull it off."

"With all due respect to your best and brightest," Orion replied, a slight smile on his face, "they don't know how to gain access to Cybertropolis PD's crowd control weaponry, nor are they privy to ancient access and escape routes that only one…now two people on Cybertron are aware of."

Metalhawk stared incredulously at Orion before turning to Wheeljack, who shrugged back at him. "We let him make a call."

"Hand, hold us." Metalhawk prayed in annoyed frustration.

"Sir," Electro turned to Metalhawk, "the aerial transport to Cybertropolis has already been arranged. We've got to at least hear the plan."

Prowl

"Good evening to you, Security Commander." The darkly colored royal announced loudly as he entered the Senate Forum. Prowl was more than a bit annoyed that Rabattus Decimus had been permitted access to the area where executions would be carried out. Frankly, he was sickened that Prime had insisted that the executions not only be broadcast, but that they be done in the Senate. Seeing that sharp-toothed smile over optics shining with glee in this revered forum on this solemn and serious occasion just added to Prowl's fury.

"Lord Decimus, only security personal should be here. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Prowl replied, keeping his anger in check.

"I asked him to come." Sentinel Prime called out from the doorway behind him as he entered the Forum from behind the consul seats. "Lord Decimus has become one of my most trusted friends. He is to be granted unfettered access to pretty much anywhere."

Prowl truly disliked the decision, he felt Rabattus to be an untrustworthy sort always out for his own advancement. Even his kinsman Zeta seemed to be wary of trusting him completely, but Sentinel seemed completely at ease with the royal. But the Security Commander could do nothing more than nod and smile. "Of course sir." He then smiled at Rabattus before continuing on with his inspection. It was at least the twentieth time he had gone through here for this purpose, but it would be his final one prior to the execution.

They were minutes away from allowing the senators and other dignitaries in, followed by the various media representatives and their crews, and then finally, the prisoners. It would all be over in less than an hour. The facility was beyond secure, the perimeter was inundated with checkpoints; the checkpoints had checkpoints. No one could get in or out, and yet, something didn't seem right to Prowl. The Autobots probably realized that any attempt to break their comrades free would be futile, but there should have been protests, acts of backlash, graffiti, chaos in the streets…something. But in the days leading up to the execution the Autobots had little more than they typically did; today had be completely devoid of Autobot activity. Prowl knew that could only mean that they were waiting for the ideal time to pull something off, he just needed to be ready and able to prevent it.

Soon the senators were filing in. Then any royalty that chose to attend, including Arlon Pax. The Emir of the Torus Heights had cast aside his reclusiveness and been beyond vocal in his condemnation of the planned executions, even going so far as to refer to the act as murder. Prowl had to admit, the punishment did not fit the crime; he had been there for the crime, he had been in the thick of it, he had been a victim of the attack. But they had used tar bombs. Frankly, were the Autobots planning on killing them, well, they'd have had trouble finding ordinance that could tear through Sentinel Prime's armor perhaps, but Prowl and most of the Primal Security Force would have been killed. Punishment was deserved for this act of insurrection, but not execution. But Prime insisted he was just and right, that it was his mandate from the Senate to do as he saw fit, and to do it without being hampered by dissent. He looked over to Prime, who still had Rabattus next to him whispering in his aural cavity, the two of them glaring up at Arlon Pax, as the non-humanoid shaped emir struggled to contort his frame into the area assigned to him. To his credit, Lord Pax succeeded in looking dignified in his attempts to sit comfortably, eliciting disappointed looks from Sentinel and Rabattus. 'Petty', Prowl thought to himself, perhaps appropriate for a Decimus devoid of power, but beneath the Prime. But again, it was not Prowl's place to make such judgments.

He then watched as Red Alert and his team ushered in the media contingent and informed them of where they could set up. Nearly half an hour later they were set, it was time to begin. Prowl watched as Sentinel Prime whispered something to Rabattus which caused them to share a light chuckle, before turning toward Prowl and walking across the Forum floor to speak to him. "Is everything ready, Prowl?"

Prowl nodded. "Yes your grace, though it's not too late to change your mind if you've had second thoughts." The statement only gained him a disgusted glare from his leader, who then turned away and smiled up at the Senators, royalty and nobility.

"Greetings everyone. Thank you all for coming." Sentinel addressed them regally, but was careful to address the cameras on him with as much respect. "Tonight we have a serious matter to attend to. Justice is always a serious matter. The better part of a year ago my party and myself were attacked. A terrorist group lied in wait for us in the middle of a populated town, and attacked without cause or hesitation, causing grievous injury. Their attack was thwarted, they were captured, but their intent was clear; they wished to kill me and those devoted champions assigned to protect me. I bypassed the Magistratus and held their trial before this very Senate, and this esteemed governing body recognized the evil in their sparks, and wisely chose to find them guilty of the charges against them, and to assign the appropriate punishment." Sentinel lowered his head solemnly and paced slowly across the forum floor. "The execution of a prisoner is never easy, nor should it be. It is the silencing of a spark, the ending of a life, the cancelation of something divinely given. But there are offenses that demand nothing less. While I see myself as one of you, I'm forced to acknowledge the power and symbolism my title holds. This wasn't an attack on Sentinel Honorum, this was an attack on the Prime. The punishment is clear," Sentinel turned and nodded to Prowl, "send in the guilty."

Prowl tapped a button that sent a signal to his guards, and a moment later the thirteen captive Autobots were marched into the Forum in shackles. Sentinel Prime marched over to Blaster and whispered something, causing the captive Autobot to glared into his optics. Sentinel turned and remained in character; the respectful and appropriate Commander of all, administering justice. The Autobots were lined up in front of the device constructed for this purpose. It was a construct that was being adjusted to lie directly in front of the prisoners, possessing a puncture spike to destroy each of their sparks that acted in unison with a blade designed to decapitate them. The device held twelve of these combined killing mechanisms, each set to the size and shape of their humanoid-shaped targets. For Steeljaw, a large axe was brought out. Sentinel felt it would be a good show of his prowess if he were to execute one of the prisoners himself.

"Prowl?" The voice of Eject came through the inter-Security communications channel.

Prowl turned and headed toward a doorway where he could talk quietly without being noticed by anyone. On his way he noticed several members of the media seeming to panic over something. Upon reaching the doorway he replied. "What is it Eject?"

"Sir, several of the channels broadcasting have been interrupted by a pirated signal." He replied. "It's pumping pre-recorded Autobot propaganda."

"How many channels?" Prowl asked.

"Four of the ten broadcasting." Eject answered.

"Less than half." Prowl muttered to himself. "The events are getting out there, so I'm not going to bother Prime with this now, but do what you can to block them out and reclaim the signals."

"Yes sir." Eject replied before Prowl cut the connection. He smiled. Finally, the Autobots had made their move. It would be an annoyance at worst. For the first time in weeks Prowl allowed himself to relax.

"You have been found guilty of attempted Primalcide!" Sentinel's voice called out loudly, and Prowl turned and reentered the Forum, looking at his leader, the massive Prime's right hand resting on a podium while his left waved out over the thirteen soon to be dead Autobots. "Do you have any last words before you are strapped to the impalation gibbet?" Prowl knew that Prime had been kicking around the idea of sabotaging the vocal functions of the prisoners, and it seemed that he had actually followed through with his plans as they only glared at him silently. "No? Alright then, guards, strap…" Prime was interrupted as a dark glob slammed into and enveloped his hand, leaving it stuck to the podium. "What?" A smaller round struck the Prime in the mouth, silencing him.

The guards were immediately swarming on the Forum floor, as was Prowl, but no sooner were they out there than they were being pelted right and left by tar bombs as well. "Autobots!" Prowl yelled out as his legs were swept out from under him by a glob fired from fairly close range, forcing him to fall over at an awkward angle as his feet were immediately glued to the floor.

"This travesty of justice is over!" Prowl turned to the voice, one originating from the upper seating levels, and was amazed to see Orion Pax running down, a tar canon in his hand. Various other robots were funneling in, overwhelming his guards with ease and keeping the senators, royals and nobles intimidated. Prowl immediately looked up toward Arlon Pax to see if the emir would provide some indication as to whether he was expecting the attack or even if he seemed to support it. The look on the non-humanoid emir's face would be difficult to read for most, but Prowl was able to analyze it as if it were a standard, humanoid face, and his analysis was telling him that Arlon was as stunned by this development as he was.

Orion reached the floor as those he was with immediately went to free the prisoners. The common-born Pax turned and addressed everyone in the audience as well as the cameras. "I bid you greeting, members of the Cybertronian Senate. I would apologize for this disruption, were these proceedings not is such dire need of disruption." He noted the looks and sounds of surprise and fear, raising his hands as he spoke. "I mean no harm to any of you." He turned and watched as his comrades freed the Autobots, two of which were the siblings that had infiltrated the gladiatorial circuit for Prowl, before continuing his address.

"Prowl, the signal was inexplicably cleared…ohhhh, oh shit!" Prowl rolled his optics at Eject's comments through the communication channel and his sudden realization of what was going on. The Security Commander struggled to free himself as he continued listening to Orion Pax addressing the audience, both present and around the planet.

"A question has dominated my thoughts, my very soul, since the moment of my birth roughly one year ago, and it is one that I now put before this esteemed Senate, a question that has been asked far too infrequently of you senators. It is a matter that, in my opinion, is nothing less than a question of freedom or slavery. Our society, and the societies that its foundations were built upon the ruins of, was founded on the basic, unshakable core belief that there are those of us who are inherently of greater value than others. This value that is allotted to us based on no merit beyond location of birth. It is a philosophy devoid of any degree of reason or rational support, yet one whose entrenchment in our culture is absolute and unshakable.

There is no mystery as to why this is. Those who attained power through whatever means, sought, as you continue to seek, to maintain their power; to ensure that their power and wealth was unthreatened, and to keep those that could pose a threat down and powerless. To aid them to this end they created, and you maintain, a mythology of enhancement and enlightenment through a divinely ordained system of birthrights. It's a story that would be laughable were it not such a tragic one that's lasted for over a dozen million years. We Autobots are devoted to putting an end to this tragedy. When the course of events leads to an environment where it becomes necessary for one people to divorce themselves from the binds that connect them to another, a deference to the opinions of cyberkind requires that they should declare the causes which drive them to the separation.

Though long ignored, it is an intrinsic axiom that all sentient beings are created equal, gifted by their Creator with certain irrefutable entitlements, that among those are existence, freedom, and the right to seek contentment. Governments are created by sentient beings to secure these entitlements, and justly operate through the sanction of the governed. When such government becomes a threat to these ideals, it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it!

There is so much more, but I fear that due to circumstances, I must cut this short. Know that we Autobots prefer alteration to abolition; though drastic alteration is required. Should the actions of this Senate prove to be insufficient or non-existent on this front, we will have no hesitation in tearing it down and starting over from scratch. I know that I do not speak for all, but I am certain that I am not alone in demanding that I be given liberty, or that I be given death. I will be a slave to the whims of petty despots no longer, nor will I tolerate that fate for others."

The last of the shackles were removed from the prisoners as two dozen guards armed with small caliber weapons surged into the Forum. One of the guards was armed with a chemical dispenser, and began immediately firing on the globs of tar covering Prime. Prowl continued struggling, but looked back up onto the crowd to see if it was pride or disgust on the face of Arlon Pax. He was stunned to see the seating area vacated by the emir, but he couldn't dwell on it as another guard with a chemical dispenser began covering the tar holding his legs with a gel that ate away at it. Halfway to freedom Prowl turned to see Prime yank free of the podium, tear what remained of his chemically-soaked tar from his mouth and charge Orion Pax. "You'll die for this, commoner!" The punch was thunderous, but Pax sidestepped it and used Prime's momentum to push him into the large execution device.

The impact damaged part of it, but activated the puncturing mechanism for the section directly in front of Sentinel Prime. The spike shot toward his back, but it was pulverized by a blue blur of a fist slamming into it a moment before it could connect with the Prime. "Nobody dies today!" Orion announced as he stepped back away from Prime and the mechanism.

"Wrong!" Prime roared as he backhanded Orion and charged after him. Orion recovered from the backhand immediately and once again side-stepped Prime, and as Sentinel turned toward him, Orion delivered a right cross that floored the leader.

"Pax, move your ass!" Prowl pulled both his legs free and leapt to his feet to see Sunstreaker calling out to Orion from a hallway entrance that the rest of the Autobots were already departing through. Orion didn't hesitate and was immediately leaping over unconscious or tar-subdued guards toward the others, and a second later they had vanished into the hallway. Prowl couldn't understand what they were doing, that hallway would only lead them deeper into the Senate building; they would be trapped in minutes.

"Prime!" Prowl knelt down next to his leader, and looked into the just now focusing optics. "Are you alright?"

Prime's metal teeth ground in fury. "Get them! Don't let them escape!"

Shokaract

He hated the The Torus Heights. He hated the north in general, but he especially hated this cold, sparsely populated, endless expanse of shit emirate. Why Reptilion refused to move from here was beyond him. Granted, he needed privacy, and there was plenty of that in this wasteland, but security measures could be put in place in facilities in the south if he wanted. And if he were caught, the Onyx's, Modus's, Macht's and others could be bribed to look away; there was no chance of a Pax overlooking whatever Repilion was doing.

But he was insistent, and brilliant, so they indulged him. And it was impossible to dismiss his point that as the target of his experiments was the Tartarun Gates, a staging point in The Torus Heights made a lot of sense. So as much as he and his fellow Nyonian companions, Ransack and Striker, may have hated this frigid expanse, they made the trip. They all played their roles, Mindwipe's being critical, but ultimately any chance of success rested with Reptilion.

The three robots with bestial pieces indicating animalistic shell modes came upon a lone facility wedged into a narrow valley, surrounded by no other signs of civilization, the sun quickly disappearing under the mountains. "I honor Saurus Onyx, I possess nothing but pride in my beast mode, but damn if treks like these don't make me long for wheels and motors."

Striker laughed and nodded in agreement at Shokaract's statement as he reached forward and knocked at the door. Ransack however snarled a reply. "I could have traversed this distance faster than any wheeled form had I not been anchored with you two slow lumps."

"We appreciate your company, Ransack." Striker replied through his mild laughter.

"Your fleet form will be most useful when the time to spread death arrives." Shokaract mused, quickly abandoning his uncharacteristic mirth and getting serious once again.

Nearly a minute later the door was pulled open to reveal a monstrous green and purple robot. "What do you want?"

Though not invited, the three pushed their way in, the occupant, though seemingly annoyed, permitted it. "Mindwipe has received another vision, message, whatever you want to call it, Reptilion." Shockaract replied as the host shut the door. "Our masters grow impatient, they expect faster results of us."

"Faster res…" Reptilion grumbled. "Do they have any idea of the complexity of what I'm doing here?"

"No, they know only of our existence and our pledge to free them and submit to them." Ransack replied without any compassion in his voice. "Even if Mindwipe understood what you're trying to do here, I doubt whatever link he has to the undead would be robust enough for such level of detail to flow."

"Bah, alive, dead, or undead, management always consists of demanding, short-sighted blowhards that always fail to recognize or appreciate the complexities involved with achieving their goals." Reptilion replied with a growl. "Well, you came to see where we're at, I might as well show you."

Reptilion led his visitors out of the large expanse that could have been considered a reception area if he were interested enough in receiving guests to design it to be one, and on through several hallways before stopping midway in one. Shokaract and the others were confused, as there were no doors anywhere near them, but things became clear as their host turned to the wall, stepped toward it and positioned his face to within a few inches of it, and a panel slit open. A series of lights emanated from it to scan his optics, and a moment later a large, door-sized panel, slid open.

The four robots entered a dark expanse, but as they entered the lights high overhead began activating and illuminating the sections ahead of them, until an entire 10,000 foot deep and 8,000 foot wide expanse came into view. "I'm really only using this front third for now." Reptilion said as he reached the end of a line of lab tables filled with equipment and monitors and turned to the right. There were rows of tables equipped in much the same way, and he passed several row on his way toward the wall, which was lined with cages; scores of cages, nearly three hundred by Shokaract's estimate, enough that even stacked three high extended nearly the entire length of the vast room. Of the two-hundred seventy-four specimens you provided me, only three survived the testing and proved to possess the traits needed." He turned right as they got to the row with the cages and started heading back toward the front of the room, the robots looking at column after column of cages filled with corpses to their left, until they finally reached the first three columns of cages, where on the floor level cage of each column laid a living but unconscious black and purple robot. "You three will be proud to know that the only viable candidates hailed from Nyon." Reptilion announced as they looked upon the three average-sized darkly colored forms. "Not sure if there's something in the metallico, or if it's related to the higher prevalence for bestial shaped robotic modes, or what, but you Nyonians seem more open to physical adaptation."

"So who are these guys?" Ransack asked, peering intently at the three.

Reptilion turned around toward the lab table behind him and lifted off a tablet, taking a few seconds to scroll through. "Their designations are…Kickback, Bombshell and Shrapnel." He looked up from the tablet and smiled at his guests. "Don't get too attached though. They've made it through the testing, so physically they should recover from what we have planned for them, but mentally, well, let's just say that what's already happened combined with what's in store is going to take a pretty hefty toll."

Shokaract nodded. "We don't care about their wellbeing, just that they are adequate for the procedure."

Reptilion nodded and displayed a monstrous smile. "Oh, they're beyond adequate, they're perfect."

Arlon Pax

"Sir, what are we doing here?" Roadbuster, the head of his guards here in Cybertropolis, asked as he nervously scanned the area. "We're fifty feet from a sewer run-off, we've seen several empties and other undesirables loitering around here, and there was an attack in the Senate Forum. We need to get you to a more secure location."

"Relax Roadbuster, we're perfectly safe." Arlon replied. "Though do not be alarmed when a secret panel in that wall opens and the attackers come out."

"Sir?" The startled Roadbuster asked, but then raised his rifle toward the wall in front of them. "Be ready boys."

"Put your weapons down!" Arlon demanded. "You must of heard who was leading the attack."

"We overheard some comments, Lord Pax, but they were absurd." Roadbuster replied. "There couldn't be any truth to…"

"It was Orion," Alron interrupted, "I witnessed what he did with my own optics. So cease pointing your weapons at…" a shaking of the wall silenced Arlon, and after a great deal of shuffling, the wall started pushing out and then sliding to the side, displacing millions of years' worth of sediment from the structure.

A moment later a yellow helmet surrounding a silver face poked its head out, caught sight of them and ducked back in. Arlon and the security force that he had brought from the Torus Heights heard the barely muffled conversation going on within the newly exposed dark tunnel. "There's close to two-dozen armed soldiers out there, all behind what's either Arlon Pax or a tarpanicus."

"Move Metalhawk." A familiar voice said, and a moment later Orion Pax emerged through the entrance and marched straight toward Arlon, wrapping his arms around the bestial emir, who in turn raised onto his hind legs to hug Orion with his forelimbs. "It's wonderful to see you again, my lord."

"It's a glorious relief to see you, my son." Arlon replied as they broke the hug and each took a step back. Orion nodded and looked down, the other Autobots filing out of the tunnel and standing in the lower-level street. Arlon chuckled lightly. "You didn't really think that you were the only one that A-Three shared his secrets with, did you?"

Orion chuckled. "Clearly I was incorrect in making that assumption." He finally looked back up and peered deeply into Arlon Pax's optics. "Sir, I have betrayed your House and put you and every other Pax in jeopardy. I am so so…"

"Stop!" Arlon interrupted. "I have betrayed House Pax by not taking the stance that you are taking now millions of years ago. You, with your actions today, have brought honor and integrity back to House Pax. What you said in there, what was heard by the entire planet, will make us despised by the royal and noble Houses, but it was right, it was just, it was truly noble. You have brought honor, true honor to House Pax today. I have never been prouder of anyone than I am of you right now. Do not apologize for doing what is right! Never apologize for doing what is right!"

"Uhm, sir," the robot that had first peered through the opening interrupted, "I apologize, I do not mean to interrupt or to disrespect you. House Pax has always been a beacon of light in the darkness of our world, but I'm afraid we need to wrap this up. We're still in dangerous territory here."

"Of course." Arlon said, nodding at the Autobot that Orion had referred to earlier as Metalhawk, before looking back at his wayward adopted kinsman. "You have brought me pride, Orion Pax."

"Sir, I no longer have the right, it's just Orion."

"It's Orion Pax." Arlon corrected firmly. "No one has earned the right more than you. It would do our House honor for you to retain the name. Please, keep it."

"Of course my lord." Orion replied as he bowed.

"Primus keep you Orion Pax." Arlon then turned to his security forces. "You are all commoners, and you are all loyal to Orion Pax. Those of you who have an inclination to join these Autobots may do so with my blessing. The rest of you are to return to Tyger Pax. I will be safe on my own here."

"Sir…" Roadbuster protested.

"That is an order, Roadbuster." Arlon insisted. "Make your choices and go. I will be fine."

"My lord," Orion stepped forward, "Arlon, please keep them at your side. If I escape, Sentinel Prime will try to take this out on you."

"Let him try." Arlon stated. "Now, I realize that you Autobots do not submit to ranks of royalty or nobility, but as one of the individuals to have helped raise you I am entitled to give you one final order."

"Of course, my lord." Orion bowed his head.

"Run, and do not look back until you are safely away." Arlon stated. "Never regret your actions here tonight, no matter what consequences emerge. You were just, you sought freedom and equality for all sentient beings of this planet, you lived our ideals. So I order you to escape, and continue your fight another day."

"Sir, please, let Roadbuster escort you back to Tyger Pax, or come with us." Orion pleaded.

"I have made my decision, I expect you all to respect it." Arlon insisted. The bestial emir than smiled. "Do not fear, I can handle Sentinel Honorum."

Sentinel Prime

"You cannot allow this to pass." Rabattus's words were right, but served no purpose. Sentinel had no intention of letting any of this pass. He continued staring angrily at the doorway that his Security Commander had disappeared through half an hour before to conduct the search for the Autobot bastards who had shamed him. Finally the black and white form of Prowl reappeared.

"Finally!" Prime snarled as he marched toward the much smaller Prowl. "Tell me you've found them!"

"I'm sorry sir, but they're still unaccounted for." Prowl replied.

"How?" Prime roared. "They fled INTO the center of the building! They should have been easily cornered and either captured, or cut to pieces by our weapons!"

Prowl braced himself before delivering this next bit. "Sir, it appears that they gained access to secret passages that we were unaware of. We've found a couple of access points, but it's been slow going trying to figure out where these passages lead and which branches the intruders used. Frankly, none of us had the slightest clue that these passages existed."

Prime turned away and growled to himself. "Primon!"

"What was that your grace?" Prowl asked.

"Nothing." Prime growled as he turned back toward Prowl. "Is there nothing you can do? Nothing you can leverage against that bastard of a Pax?" Suddenly Prime's optics grew wide. "Arlon!" He turned to look up into the crowd of spectators, who had been ordered to stay where they were until the initial investigation determined whether any of them had somehow aided the Autobots. Prime's optics darted directly to where Arlon had been sitting, widening as he saw the section vacated. "Where is he? Where is Arlon Pax?"

"I noticed him missing before the Autobots left the Forum." Prowl replied, raising his wrist to his face. "Though he was there as they initially charged in, and he appeared as surprised as any of us." He opened a signal to the heads of each of his security squads. "I want Arlon Pax found and brought to the Senate Forum."

"You can save your subordinates some time and effort." A voice announced from the doorway behind them, and both Prowl and Prime turned to see the quadruped Alron Pax standing there. "I am found, and I am in the Senate Forum."

"Stand before me!" Prime demanded loudly, and the Emir of The Torus Heights nodded and complied. Prime leaned forward a little and snarled. "Don't even try to tell me that you had nothing to do with this."

Arlon met his glare without any sign of intimidation. "I had no part in the planning, the storming of the Forum, the freeing of the prisoners, or the initial part of the escape. But I knew of the tunnels built into this building, and I was able to guess their most likely point of exit, so I left during the commotion and waited there to meet them. They emerged, I wished them well, and I returned here."

Prime was stunned at the total disregard this…this…this animal, an animal from a pointless waste of a region, was showing him, the Prime of Cybertron. "You…wished them well? You knew where they were heading? You did nothing to stop them."

"Yes." Arlon replied disinterestedly.

Prime was flustered, but felt as presence sidle up to him. He shifted his head just enough to see that it was Rabattus Decimus standing to his right. "You are guilty of treason, Emir Pax. Were I you, I would publicly denounce Orion, strip him of the name Pax and anything else you've given him, vow to use every resource at your disposal to find him and bring him to justice, and then throw yourself upon the mercy of your Prime."

Arlon casually shifted his gaze toward Rabattus. "Lord Decimus, I thank you for your wisdom, and were I a simpering coward who put his wellbeing over his honor and integrity, I might take your words to spark." He turned his gaze back to Sentinel Prime. "But I am not. I will strive to live up to the example provided by my young kinsman and sacrifice that wellbeing to do what is right. You are less than the shadow of Orion Pax; I will never denounce him to appease one such as you."

Unbridled fury raged in Prime's optics and forced his face to contort into an ugly mask, but he slowly regained control, took on an appearance of civility and turned back to the crowd. He then looked to the media contingent. "Turn your cameras back on." They all nodded and complied, and a few moments later were broadcasting again. Sentinel smiled and addressed those in the Forum. "Hello again everyone, as you saw earlier, we were attacked by Autobot terrorists, who brought weapons into this sacred forum, assaulted us, and freed their murderous comrades. They have thus far eluded us, thanks in no small part to Arlon Pax, Emir of The Torus Heights!" Sentinel allowed the gasps of shock and disbelief wash over him. He turned to Prowl, who gave him a look of concern and a slight negative head shake. His gaze shifted over to Rabattus, who gave the opposite opinion with his nod and a clenched fist. Rabattus was right, it really did take a royal to appreciate a situation like this. Prowl definitely had his uses, but commoners were too low on the totem pole to recognize the stakes; to see the big picture.

Sentinel Prime then twisted his head forcefully and glared at the emir in question. "Do you deny these charges, Emir Pax?"

Arlon Pax raised his long head and directed his sweeping gaze over the senators. "I do not. I took no action, verbal or physical, to stop the assault led by a member of my House. I was aware of their likely point of escape, but I took no action to stop them, nor did I make this location known to Sentinel Prime's security forces. I did wait for Orion Pax and his comrades at that location, met them as they emerged, and informed Orion Pax that not only was I proud of him, but that I supported him in every way. He is right, the words he said were undeniable. Those who question them do so not out of logic and reason, but out of preservation of their way of life. I wished him good fortune, told him to continue his just fight, and then I came back here." Sentinel Prime stared at him with a stunned look on his face, one that matched everyone else in the Forum. "You are a tyrant, Sentinel Honorum. You have abused your position and authority, and made what had been a murky injustice under your predecessors crystal clear with your transgressions." Arlon turned toward the media contingent and addressed their cameras directly. "I am Arlon Pax, head of House Pax, and I am beyond proud to count Orion Pax as a member. Orion, continue the fight for justice, and always remember our words, freedom is the right of all sentient beings."

"That's enough!" Sentinel Prime roared. "You are clearly guilty! You are clearly a traitor!" He marched toward the implements that had been intended for the execution of the Autobot prisoners, past the large device for the dual impaling/decapitating executions and hoisted up the large axe that had been intended to decapitate the yellow feralitron. The crowd gasped at seeing him grab the axe, turn, and march back toward the four-legged emir. "You are clearly a greater danger to the government and to planetary peace and security than a typical terrorist, and therefore, you are clearly deserving of the most final punishment I can deliver!"

Arlon still refused to display any sign of fear or intimidation as he looked up at the Prime. "Then do what you must, Sentinel."

"Your grace!" Prowl called out, but the savage glare from Prime silenced him. Prime shifted his gaze toward Rabattus, who gave him a supportive nod. Only a fellow royal could understand.

Prime stomped to the side of Arlon Pax and raised the axe high over his head. "Make peace with your Creator, Pax!" The cries of protest from the crowd washed over him, leaving no imprint on his mind or impact on his course of action. He focused solely on Arlon's face, which twisted ever so slightly to display a hint of a grin on his bestial mouth. The axe came down.


	10. Chapter 10

Rabattus Decimus

The transport had been cutting through the clouds for hours, but he could feel it finally descending. Rabattus had been staring at the crate on the floor up near the front of the passenger section of the delta wing premier luxury cruiser that he was currently being transported in. It was furnished exactly as one would expect a royal transport to be furnished, one loaned to him for this endeavor by House Honorum from their personal fleet. A couch actually had to be collapsed into the floor to make room for the crate near the door, but it was accomplished with minimal effort…by the pilot. Frankly, aside from waiting one minute for the task to be completed and another for the crate to be loaded, the actual alterations and preparation had no impact on Rabattus whatsoever. This task however, would likely cost him a day of his time, perhaps more should things go badly…or if they went very well.

And it wasn't truly a cost, it was an investment, the darkly colored royal thought to himself with a smile. So he had to travel to the polar shithole of Polarus, so what? It would ingratiate him into all sides; cement his position as every party's go-between, a position that would offer him a tremendous amount of power and influence. There were risks, no question about that, but if successful, the reward would be beyond measure. "Lord Decimus, we've been target locked." Ughn, speaking of the risks.

"Of course we have, it's a warning, nothing more." Rabattus instructed his pilot through the intercom. "Hail them, follow their instructions, do nothing to antagonize them. They were informed we'd be coming, they'll be unreceptive to say the least, but their hostility will be confined to words and gestures; we won't be harmed."

"Yes sir." The pilot replied. "I've informed them that we'll be arriving at the main Tyger Pax landing pad in a few minutes, I've gotten no response."

"Then just land." Rabattus smiled. "As I said, unreceptive." He chuckled quietly, once again gazing toward the crate sitting near the door. A moment later he felt the shuttle gently rock as it touched down. Rabattus stood up and nodded as the pilot walked out of the cockpit and quickly made his way around the crate and opened the door for the royal, activating the retracted staircase before stepping out to assess the situation outside.

A moment later he reentered the shuttle, a look of apprehension on his face. "My lord, several vehicles are arriving, many mounted with weapons."

"The Pax's feel that an act of war has been committed against them." Rabattus replied calmly. "It's a show of force against a representative of the government they feel betrayed by. They cannot hope to win, and frankly, the majority of them probably have no true desire to fight, but are whipped up in a frenzy. Act calmly, do as you're told, and they will not hurt us." The dark royal delivered a fearsome smile as he walked past the pilot and down the ramp, making sure that the palms of his hands were clearly visible extended out at his sides. Eighteen vehicles sped over the tarmac, all of them armed with cannons mounted on them, and screeched to a halt a few dozen feet from his position, before transforming, the mounted canons now held in hands or on shoulders. "Greetings citizens of The Torus Heights. I am Rabattus of House Decimus and I come as a representative…"

"We know who you are." A well-built but slightly shorter than average dark blue robot growled, the plasma cannon now in his hand, not pointed at Rabattus, but clearly ready to be used. "Sentinel Prime's latest pet sycophant. We saw you whispering into his ear throughout that farce, leading up to the murder of our emir! A far greater Cybertronian than the members of Houses Decimus and Honorum combined!"

"Lord Pax, please, allow us." A slightly larger than average and worn red robot requested. "Ya' should be back within the walls a' Tyger Pax, where yer House's security forces can protect ya'."

"Don't worry Ironhide, there's nothing to fear, is there Lord Decimus?" The blue robot snarled at the visitor. "He's here to smooth over Sentinel's act of murder, to make peace; to try and get us to stay in line. He'll likely offer concessions or some other bribe, or maybe resort to implied or even overt threats, but he's not here to take any action. Sentinel isn't going to attack today, and the attack isn't going to be spearheaded by this cowardly fop."

"None the less, my lord, ya' should not be out here dealin' with this personally." Ironhide insisted. "Ya' need to be kept safe."

"Why?" The young Pax, who Rabattus assumed to be Roller based on appearance, obvious youth and the fact that he had not seen this member of House Pax before, snapped. "I'm not the Emir, I hold no position of importance, I'm as expendable as anyone else."

"No my lord, you're a Pax." Ironhide replied.

The young royal displayed a smile. "And that means what?" He stared intently at Ironhide. "Orion was right. Even Arlon was convinced Orion was right. Hell, has Orion ever been wrong? Ever? I'm no more important than any of you. Hell, I'm the least important person here, I should be protecting you!"

"Lord Roller Pax…" Rabattus finally chimed in, "I completely understand the pain and rage you must feel, the need for action, the need to do anything to honor your fallen kinsman and emir. But threatening and insulting me is not going to accomplish anything. In fact, it's going to stand in the way of progressing to any potential solution." Rabattaus took a step forward toward the enraged young royal, his movements slow, deliberate and completely unthreatening. "You're right about one thing, I am here to smooth things over between The Torus Heights and the rest of the planet."

"Yer gonna tell us that tha' rest of tha' planet stands by what Sentinel Prime did ta' Arlon Pax?" The one called Ironhide growled the sarcastic challenge.

Rabattus lowered his head, and presented his well-rehearsed slow nod and look of deep regret. "Sentinel Prime's action was rash…and most regrettable. I assure you, he recognizes that it was…" dramatic pause, look of uncertainty, suppress that knowing smirk pushing to be displayed, "well, he knows amends must be made." Another pause and a deep look into Roller Pax's optics. "I wish to speak to the members of House Pax, and any of the other great Houses of The Torus Heights. I understand that several of your vassals have come to show support and solidarity."

Roller studied Rabattus heatedly for several moments before finally replying. "Alright, follow us to the gates. Olnius Pax is acting as interim emir until we formally select a replacement for Arlon; you'll want to shovel whatever you plan to shovel his way. Frankly, you should be happy, he'll be far more receptive to whatever you have to say than most other Pax's." Roller turned and made as though he was about to transform.

"One moment, Roller Pax." Rabattus graciously called out, and waited for Roller to turn back and face him. "I came with something…something that House Pax would most definitely want returned to them." Rabattus shifted his head and directed his gaze up at the crate in the open doorway of the shuttle, the pilot standing next to it.

Roller followed his gaze and at locking his optics on the crate, a look of realization and anguish came over his young face. "Is..is that…"

"Yes." Rabattus answered. "There are retractable wheels built into the crate, so it can be hauled by one of your subjects."

"I will carry him." Roller shot back authoritatively, though no hint of malice in his voice. Only reverence and sadness. "I will bring him home."

The crate was lowered, Roller approached it alone, opened it and gazed within for over a minute before resealing it, nodding to Ironhide and transforming, allowing the constable to attached the crate to a hook on his rear portion. A couple of minutes later they were approaching the gates of the imposing Tyger Pax, where another party of dozens of vehicles was arriving ahead of them, a party led by a slowly flying aircraft that was too small to be a shuttle, but seemingly too large to be a Cybertronian. The rest were ground vehicles, speeding to keep up with their airborne leader. The other group reached the gates first, and they all transformed, the plane turning out to be the massive Lugnut of House Boltax. They turned to face the oncoming group from the airfield, who continued toward them undeterred, and in a few moments arrived before them and transformed as well. Roller marched straight up to the enormous noble. "Lugnut, I wasn't aware your shell mode had flight capabilities."

Lugnut nodded. "A fairly recent development, Lord Pax. A more discerning eye than the former House Boltax physicians had noted that my shell mode could accommodate an aerial mode, and it really didn't require much of an alteration from my previous battering tank mode. I won't be winning too many dogfights, but I can decimate Nova Cronum ground forces if it comes to that."

Roller Pax eyed the giant skeptically. "What are you saying, Lord Boltax?"

"House Boltax stands with Tyger Pax." Lugnut announced, and bowed his head. "I know our houses have had some conflicts over the vorns, and that you and I in particular had a difficult first meeting, but our loyalty is to The Torus Heights and its rightful rulers."

Roller continued his unconvinced gaze. "Would you still feel that way if I told you that House Pax stands with Orion Pax?"

"Lord Pax," Ironhide whispered just loud enough for Rabattus to hear, perhaps intentionally, "Olnius Pax has not said that to be the case."

"Perhaps, Ironhide, but Arlon Pax has." Roller replied for all to hear and firmly patted the crate resting behind him as punctuation. He looked back up at Lugnut. "You have expressed feelings of superiority over the common born. You have gotten into a fist fight with Orion. So should we demand safe treatment and complete amnesty for Orion Pax and his comrades, and should House Pax do as Arlon Pax intended and adopt the goals and aspirations of the Autobots, would your loyalty to Tyger Pax still exist?"

Lugnut stared down at the much smaller robot before finally responding. "I do not claim to be in agreement with the sentiments of Orion or those of his newfound affiliation, but I am honor-bound to serve House Pax faithfully, and while I do wander, to my core I am of The Torus Heights, and will fight all those that pose a threat to its borders. You may hear the occasional respectful disagreement from me within proper confines, but ultimately I will be loyal to your house." Lugnut turned and directed his lone optic, truly the only feature on his face, toward Rabattus. "He, most definitely, will not."

"My loyalty is to the planet." Rabattus replied. "I am here to direct my efforts so that what's best for Cybertron, and what's best for House Pax, are not mutually exclusive, Lord Boltax."

A low, deep chuckling came out of Lugnut. "You're kidding, right? Sentinel Prime got bitch-slapped on Cyber-feed and reacted by executing the most respected emir on the planet. What can you possibly do to fix that?"

"Try." Rabattus shrugged. "All I can do is try." They all turned to see the gates opening, and hundreds of armed soldiers looking as menacing as they could toward the one non-Torus Heightsian. Rabattus attempted a disarming smile "I come in peace."

"Of course you do." A voice called out from behind the center cluster of guards, who separated to allow the speaker, Olnius Pax, accompanied by Torenia Pax and the robust Stronghold Pax, to approach. All of the Pax's present, including the youth Roller, had the traditional U-shaped post-protoformal cranial shell crest shared by most Pax's. Even Arlon, with his non-humanoid robotic mode, still possessed this crest spreading over his bestial head. It was a testament to the purity of the Pax metallico pool that so few did not possess this trait. Most other high houses filled their pools with metallico scavenged from all over in an attempt to increase their numbers, but the drawback was the thinning out of traditional familial traits that linked them to their noble or even Knightly origins. Looking on the face of Lugnut Boltax, Shockwave or other faces that bore no resemblance to their ancestors told that story all too well. The only Pax that immediately sprung to Rabattus's mind that lacked this trait was Orion, and as he was not truly a Pax; it would have been odder had he had the trait. Olnius was tall and slender, standing twenty two feet in height. The few times Rabattus had met him prior he had always had a grin etched across his face; this was the first time he had seen the royal with a scowl. "Why are you here, Decimus?"

"Firstly, to return what is rightfully yours." He waved over the crate next to Roller. The beautiful Torenia gasped and covered her mouth at seeing it, and then immediately ran to it.

"I must see him." She cried. "I have to make sure it's him!"

"It's him, Torenia." Roller assured as he placed a hand on her shoulder. "All of him. He's finally home."

"I suppose we should thank you." Olnius muttered as he stood before Rabattus. "Though I fear our house is not in a frame of mind to be grateful to those loyal to Sentinel Prime at this time. Perhaps you should just skip to the other reason or reasons you are here."

Rabattus nodded and bowed his head slightly. "I am here to do whatever is necessary to best serve the realm."

Olnius cocked his optic-brow. "Best serve the realm?"

"It is my function." Rabattus replied. "I am to ensure peace, by any reasonable means necessary. What can be offered to ease the pain of your loss and to reestablish security to your emirate and House?"

"There's the offer of concession." Roller grumbled as he walked past Rabattus and stood next to the other Pax's present.

Rabattus gave a sheepish grin, silently suppressing his annoyance with the youth. A youth who probably considered himself so clever for guessing at the role Rabattus was playing there, but who truly had no more insight into his true motives than any of these other fools.

"Lord Decimus, we want nothing from Nova Cronum or anyone allied with them." Stronghold Pax snarled, his massive shoulders, arms and chest giving the impression of being on the cusp of bearing down on the foreign royal. "Frankly, any offer would be an insul…"

"Amnesty for Orion!" Torenia blurted out.

"Now hold on!" Olnius interrupted. "We are not going to be discussing any more of this out here."

"Wait," Roller shot out, "I agree that the bulk of discussions should be hammered out behind closed doors, but for discussions to even commence, we need to establish that Orion will be safe."

"You're out of line, young one." Olnius scolded, but noted that the other two Pax's present appeared to be of the same opinion as Roller. Appearing as an act to appease his kin, the interim emir looked to Rabattus.

Rabattus returned the look with one of defeat. "I fear that on that point, Sentinel Prime is intransigent. He will concede to almost any other demand, but Orion is to be captured, tried and if found guilty in a Nova Cronum courtroom, executed."

"Then this discussion is over." Torenia growled. "I bid you a safe journey back to your master, Lord Decimus. Please tell him we are busy making any and all necessary preparations."

"Please, don't do this." Rabattus pleaded, by all appearances his sincerity genuine. "I was told by…well, you can guess, I was told to inform you that House Pax is perhaps the most beloved and revered House amongst the common people of Cybertron. And I was told to remind you that at one time, so was House Convoy. Please, make it so that the fates of your houses are not the same."

"And there's the threat." Roller grumbled.

"Come in." Olnius bade the visitor. "We will discuss things, we truly wish to avoid war, but what was done to us…it cannot stand."

Rabattus nodded, subduing his smile with ease. "Of course it cannot." He followed them in.

Reptilion

"I recognize that your visions are growing more and more insistent, Mindwipe," Reptilion growled at the screen, "but you need to recognize that doing the impossible, subverting the natural order, playing Primus…or The Hand if that makes it easier to understand for your tiny southern brain; however you wish to classify what I'm doing here, and believe me, none of those classifications can be considered an exaggeration in the slightest, you need to accept that it all takes a tremendous amount of time. This is no secret, no mystery. I've done in mere years what should take centuries, and you're crying about having to wait another decade or two?"

"You don't have to hear them. To feel them." Mindwipe's voice snarled back through the screen. "If you did, you'd finish! You'd find a way!"

"Lower your voice." Reptilion admonished. "You don't want your fellow Wardens hearing this conversation, do you?"

"Up yours, Reptilion!" Mindwipe whispered harshly.

"I have nothing more to say…" Reptilion noted the proximity sensors alarm alight, and switched it silent before it could create an audible alert, "and I have other matters to attend to. Best of luck my friend, and I will let you know of any updates that I have." He switched off the communications channel, swiveled his seat around, rose to his feet and walked toward the front entrance of his facility. The craft had only just breached his outermost sensors. He had several minutes before they would be at his door.

He remotely accessed his sensor equipment and studied up on the craft approaching him. He was a little surprised at seeing that it was a standard freight shuttle, and not some high-end luxury model. After all, it had been no less than Shockwave of House Torrent that had contacted him, whoever was coming was likely upper class. Of course, in light of recent events, it was best to maintain an extremely low profile when entering The Torus Heights, he supposed. The energon in Arlon Pax's corpse was probably still warm…well, probably not, but as far as exaggerations went, it was more fair than most. Common freight haulers came in and out of the northernmost emirate frequently, nobles and royals in their private shuttles were a bit less common, and far more worthy of notice.

Within minutes he could see the two robots that had exited the craft approaching his front door. They were big, both of them. The silver appeared to be about twenty-four feet in height, and the blue was just a bit shorter, and both broad. As they got to within a hundred yards of the facility he recognized the blue one, Soundwave. Hmmm, made sense. Another member of House Torrent, but who was the silver brute? He'd be finding out momentarily as they finally reached his door. He opened it before they had an opportunity to press the sensor. "I'm not a fan of visitors, but Shockwave has always impressed me, and unlike other intellectuals, has had the courtesy to leave me the hell alone unless it truly is worthwhile. So come in, but be ready to get to the point. Despite what you may think, I truly am busy here."

Soundwave nodded and the silver one smiled. "Sounds fair, we'll cut to the chase." The silver one replied, he was even more intimidating up close. His frame was…perfection. Reptilion couldn't help but stare intently at the perfectly formed, perfectly shaped frame. It was ideal for raw physical power, lightening speed, and looked to be able to withstand damn near anything. The newcomer waited until Reptilion's evaluation seemed to be finished and their optics locked once again. He apparently was accustomed to being admired. "We've heard that you're brilliant, resourceful, discreet, reliable, open to taking on new projects, and perhaps most importantly, devoid of…ethical limitations."

Reptilion smiled. "You heard right. Come in." The scientist stepped away from the door and allowed the two visitors into the building. He gave them a tour of the facility, but made sure to keep them away from any work related to his true calling; his true destiny. "As you noted, I am discreet, but I need to know who I'm working for." Reptilion nodded to Soundwave. "I recognize him, who are you?"

"My name is Megatron of Tarn."

"Never heard of you." The scientist led them into a secondary lab with impressive work on display, though not his most impressive work.

"I'd rather not have been heard of in most circles, so I suppose that's good to hear." Megatron replied.

"Well, don't be too warmed by the news either." Reptilion shot back. "I'm a bit of a shut-in, so it doesn't mean much." He rounded a table and stood on the other side of it from the visitors. "What is it that I can do for you?"

"We've been tasked with…" Megatron smiled, "causing mayhem. High casualty, heavy destruction, by means untraceable, or rather, traceable to another party."

"Ahh, you are some devious bastards, aren't you?" Reptilion chuckled. "I'm intrigued, hell, I'm excited, but I'm not cheap."

"We're not poor." Megatron replied with a grin.

Reptilion glanced over at Soundwave and nodded. "No, of course you're not." He then looked back at Megatron. "Anything specific in mind?"

"Well," Megatron considered, "creative, but ultimately something that a ragtag group of commoner dissidents would be capable of. Granted, a fairly well organized group of dissidents with at least one top tier scientist in their ranks,"

"Two." Soundwave interrupted. He noted a questioning look from Megatron and elaborated. "Wheeljack. Engineer, originally from Kaon, graduated top of his class at Ultirex Technoversity, offered employment at Castle Macht but fell off the grid after declining the offer. His work while at the Technoversity was…most impressive, even Shockwave has expressed admiration of his work. As a mechanical engineer he would have few peers, and he was with Orion Pax while freeing the Autobot prisoners."

Megatron nodded and turned back to Reptilion. "Make that two top tier scientists in their ranks. In fact, I suppose given the reputation of Perceptor, there's really no limit to how creative or destructive you want to be."

A knowing grin came over the scientist and he looked directly at Soundwave. "So you wish to turn public perception against the Autobots and their new poster boy."

"Is this a problem?" Soundwave asked. "We were assured that you being of The Torus Heights or being common born would not pose an issue."

"Ha!" Reptilion belted out. "Of course it won't be a problem. I have no loyalty to the Pax's, and as for me being a commoner, I couldn't care less about the Autobots. Just don't go expecting me to bow down and m'lord you every time you walk into my facility."

Megatron smiled at Soundwave. "I like him."

"Give me a few days to think about this. While I don't give two shits about honoring the Pax's, I do have to worry about avoiding their detection." Reptilion replied. "It should also give me a bit of time to run through some ideas for you."

"Of course." Megatron replied. "We'll leave you to it then. Thank you for your time."

Reptilion escorted them out, and after watching their craft ascend into the sky, he walked back into his facility and headed directly to his main lab. It contained only three activated batch tubes at the moment, but they were progressing with exceptional promise; these first three clones, the first of his swarm. His brilliance at manipulating sentio metallico, spark radiation and donated CNA, as well as other factors was finally paying off. The theories weren't technically original, but ancient databases that he had derived the ideas from were so decayed and…alien, that they offered him little more than just the spark of the idea. The research, the work, the achievements; they were for all intents and purposes his. Though his work was still only in the initial stages, in time his dream of unleashing wholesale death upon the planet would be realized. And until that point, he could help Soundwave and this Megatron in their quest to unleash incremental death a few hundred sparks at a time.

Ultra Magnus

"I am Delta Magnus, Emir of the Tagan Heights, I've traveled non-stop from Citidel Magnus and I demand an audience with Sentinel Prime." Ultra Magnus watched through the open door of the cockpit as his older kinsman, who was seated next to the pilot, announced their intentions into the speaker on the control panel. "I will be happy to verify any authentication code or submit to any security screening, but I will not be kept waiting!"

It was good to see Delta directing his righteous indignation in the correct direction for once, and not in the service of his mad red witch, a red witch who was seated across from Ultra in the passenger section. A red witch who was staring intently at Ultra with a slight smile on her long attractive face. Ultra Magnus turned and met her gaze, causing her smile to widen slightly. "You are pleased by your Emir's decision to confront Sentinel Prime."

Ultra nodded. "Of course I am. Sentinel Prime's abuse of power is a travesty that possessed no justification from a legal or ethical basis. He broke the law, not for the first time, and if unchecked, not for the last. It is our obligation, as Magnus's, to stand for the law. This is what the Emir of the Tagan Heights is meant to do."

The Mistress of Flame's smile broadened even further. "But Delta Magnus is meant to be more than just the Emir of the Tagan Heights."

"Enough." Ultra interrupted. "I may agree that Delta Magnus would make an excellent Prime; hell, I do agree. But first he needs to prove himself as an emir. He should not be considered above that role until he proves himself worthy of that role."

"Your thinking is so standard, so middling. Adequate for all but a tiny few situations." The Mistress nodded to Ultra Magnus. "The destiny of Delta Magnus is not for your middling considerations. He is exceptional, as is his fate. What you insist he do may be what's appropriate for a typical emir, but it will likely endanger the Devourer of The Devourer."

"Bah, I'm done with your nonsensical mysticism." Ultra waved his hand. "We have real problems in the real world. Our Prime is proving to be a tyrant, and Delta Magnus is one of the few on the planet capable of reeling him in, or if need be, taking him down."

"Your prodding may push him into sharing a fate with Arlon Pax." The Mistress of Flame replied as the shuttle gently rocked on touching down on the tarmac.

"Perhaps, but that's the downside of courage." Ultra Magnus replied with a smile of his own as he stood up and prepared to disembark. "He wouldn't make much of a chosen one without it, but having it might get him killed. It's all a trade-off, Mistress."

"I hope you two are getting along." Delta Magnus said with an arched optic-brow to the two of them as he walked out of the cockpit and prepared to exit through the now-opening door. The three were soon marching across the tarmac of Guardian Spaceport in central Cybertropolis, the busy grounds crew hustling about their tasks but sending respectful bows as the newcomers passed. Other travelers were scurrying about, and the three soon caught sight of a group wearing the garb, medallions and other trappings indicative of Vicars of The Hand, the highest echelon of religious leadership in the Faith of The Hand. Icy glares were exchanged between the group and the Mistress of Flame; Ultra Magnus had little doubt these holy men bore little or no animosity toward practitioners of the more mainstream and moderate faiths that worshipped Primus, but the Temple of Flame that the Mistress represented was renowned for its vehement refusal to respect the right of other religions to exist, even other sects of Primus worshippers.

The silent stare-down between the religious representatives was short lived as they continued marching toward the capital spires just a couple miles from the spaceport. Ultra Magnus recognized another group heading toward the spires, a ragtag assemblage of nomads the young Magnus recognized to be of the now defunct House Kozminius. Legend…or history, given the age of events the two frequently blend into one another, but according to both legend and history a handful of Nyonian noble houses were obliterated by Saurus Onyx prior to and shortly after the start of his initial rebellion. House Kozminius was one such house, scattered throughout the other emirates, occasionally finding sanctuary but never finding a home, and having a sickly protoform or two sent to them in crates by a laughing House Onyx after each Vectoral Pulse. Ultra Magnus glanced over at his kinsman, specifically to a crest in his cranial shell, one possessed by the both of them but that wasn't a traditional trait of House Magnus. According to the elders of House Magnus, there was an ancient House where the crest was a common trait, one that like the Kozminius's was destroyed by Deathsaurus, though not a Nyonian House. The lands of this House straddled the borders of Tyrest and the Tagan Heights, and required the Nyonian warlord to leave his borders to wipe out…and that's exactly what he did. As tragic as the story of House Kozminius was, at least they still existed. At least their ancestral pool wasn't befouled and obliterated; at least their house lived on through survivors and new protoforms. Oh, there were reported survivors of House Convoy, even tales of rescued sentio metallico and even a protoform, but nothing of substance ever emerged of those tales. There had been records of surviving Convoys, but they seemed to have vanished millions of years ago, and nothing on record to support the tales of spirited protoforms or metallico; though given the non-Magnus crests he and his kinsman shared, perhaps some of it had been added to their pit. Magnus chuckled at the thought, quickly realizing that crests like his were not unique to House Convoy, and that any perceived lineage to what many considered the greatest high house in Cybertron's history was the stuff of commoner daydreams.

Ultra Magnus noticed that the Kozminius's grew excited by something they saw ahead, and he directed his gaze forward as well. "Good, word of our arrival did get through to him." Delta exclaimed just as Ultra caught site of a large delegation approaching them with the powerful Sentinel Prime at the center of it. To the rest of Cybertron, Sentinel Prime was a hulking giant. To Delta and Ultra Magnus, he was simply less small than the rest of the population.

"Emir and Lord Magnus, welcome to Cybertropolis!" Sentinel Prime announced loudly and amicably to them from a hundred yards out, stretching his arms out wide and shattering the hopes of the Kozminius's that he was there to meet with them. "And who is this with you?"

Delta Magnus smiled and they all bowed as they continued walking to cut the distance to the Prime. "This is the Mistress of Flame, High Acolyte of the true faith."

They finally reached one another, the thirty foot Mistress smiling down on the twenty-six foot Prime. "It is a pleasure to meet you, your grace."

Prime smiled back up at her. "The pleasure is mine, Mistress." He then waved them back to a large ground transport parked on the outskirts of the spaceport. "I normally prefer to transform and travel on my own steam, but I feel that after a long journey you should be permitted to travel in a little comfort. Plus, I'm not entirely sure that the Mistress of Flame transforms into something capable of travel."

"That is most considerate, your grace." Delta Magnus replied, and a few moments later they were all seated within the large transport.

"This will take us directly to the capital spires." Sentinel smiled at them from the other side of the walkway. "Truth be told, Prowl insisted that I use this transport as opposed to traveling myself. He fears that between possible Torus Heights loyalists and commoners sympathetic to the Autobots, attempts may be made against my life. I say let the attempts come, but the idea of living with a worried and agitated Prowl hovering around is more annoyance than I care to deal with, so here we are my friends."

Ultra Magnus turned and looked intently at Delta, who did not meet his gaze, but undoubtedly felt it. "Your grace, we are friends, and it is the duty of friends to let each other know when they feel the other is…wrong."

Sentinel Prime stared at Delta Magnus for several seconds before replying. "You disapprove of my handling of the Arlon Pax situation."

"That…well your grace, that would be an understatement." Delta replied.

Sentinel continued his stare for another few seconds, but nodded slowly and smiled again, a smile that possessed far less comfort than the one on display just moments before. "It was hasty, and had I to do it all over again, I probably would not have reacted as I did."

"Probably?" Ultra gasped, earning him a stare from Delta.

Sentinel nodded. "The execution, even of an emir, was justified. But yes, I probably should have waited for the heat of the moment to have cooled. It would have seen less as me lashing out."

"Your grace, there was no trial." Ultra Magnus muttered again. "There was no conviction, only a sentence carried out."

"What purpose would a trial have served?" Sentinel replied. "He confessed to the crime. All of Cybertron witnessed the confession, and everyone on this planet will attest to the fact that is was given in the absence of coercion or trickery. Guilt had been established, the punishment appropriate. I would agree that a greater span of time separating the crime and the punishment may have been prudent, but the fact is, the punishment fit."

"Was it just anger, or were you trying to shut him up?" Delta pressed. "He wasn't backing down in his support of Orion Pax,"

"It's just Orion!" Sentinel snapped.

"If you insist, your grace." Delta Magnus nodded but continued. "But however you choose to address him, he possessed the loyalty of House Pax, he had come to be admired by many nobles, and to the commoners in and around Rodion, he has come not just to be considered a hero, but the only symbol of justice they'd ever known."

"And that was before his affiliation with the Autobots." Ultra Magnus added, and then continued on. "Without Arlon Pax's endorsement, Orion all but legitimized the Autobot movement. With the unwavering support of arguably the most respected emir on the planet, well, that raises what was merely a minor annoyance the previous day to a force that could pose a very real threat to your power base." Ultra held the blazing glare of Sentinel Prime and went on undeterred by the silent rage of his leader. "So, with all due respect your grace, was there motive beyond the carrying out of a spontaneous sentence to a convicted…er, well, not convicted, but confessed prisoner? One couldn't help but notice he took fuller advantage of the opportunity to voice his final words than the prisoners you had been able to…prepare for execution."

"Careful brother." Delta Magnus whispered.

"These are questions that need to be asked, brother." Ultra replied, maintaining his gaze on Sentinel Prime. "Due process was circumvented,"

"Due process?" Sentinel Prime snarled, a sadistic grin coming over his face. "An underground movement has been building for years, one bent on full scale civil war, one that was on the cusp of exploding at that very moment, and I did what I did to quell it!" The leader seethed. "I did what I did for the good of Cybertron!"

"I don't doubt that you believe that,"

"Ultra, that's enough!" Delta snarled before turning to the Prime. "I apologize your grace, we admired Emir Pax a great deal, and it is difficult for us to accept his passing. For one as ancient, influential and respected as Arlon Pax to be killed in such a way, well, all of us are left with questions. Being Prime, you do what you must, and you're right, the sheer magnitude of your job is such that when necessary you should be able to bypass the procedures that bind the rest of us. Perhaps this was one of those necessary situations. But anyone, especially those of us in House Magnus, feel an obligation to question things when someone like Arlon Pax is killed." Delta was employing his most diplomatic tone. "Ultra meant no disrespect."

Sentinel Prime stared at Delta Magnus for several moments before finally replying. "You saw what transpired, you heard the confession, you witnessed the open defiance, and you claim to know what was truly at stake." He turned to Ultra. "You wanted to know whether there was another motivation beyond simply administering justice that drove me to kill Arlon Pax? Of course there was. You yourself acknowledged that with his final vocalizations Arlon had given the Autobot movement a level of legitimacy that could now threaten our society. I silenced an enemy of the state. If you have a problem with this, bring it up to the Senate and see how far you get." The shuttle finally stopped in front of the Capital Spires, and Sentinel Prime immediately stood up. "It was good seeing the two of you again, and to have met you, Mistress, but if you'll excuse me, I have work to attend to." He took a step toward the door, but stopped and turned back to Delta Magnus. "Next time, leave your kinsman in the Tagan Heights." He then marched out onto the sidewalk.

The three remained in the shuttle, watching Prime shrink away as he departed, eventually disappearing through the spire's door. At that point Delta turned to Ultra. "What were you thinking?" He roared.

"They were valid questions that required answering." Ultra replied, equally angry. "He's a murderer, and his victim was the most honest and noble individual on the planet. Whatever Arlon Pax did was nowhere near worthy of a death sentence, and it sure as hell should not have been carried out then and there!" Ultra leaned in closer. "And frankly, my emir, I've been struggling, fruitlessly I might add, to formulate arguments meant to discredit what was said by either Orion or Arlon. I look at them, then I look at him," he nodded toward the open door, indicating Sentinel Prime, "and I'm not liking the side we've chosen. So, my emir, THAT'S what I was thinking."

The Mistress stared appraisingly at Ultra for a few moments before finally speaking. "Sentinel Prime is a fool unfit for his title, but he was right about one thing." Both Magnus's turned and looked at her. "Next time, we should leave him at home."

Soundwave

Tensions in The Torus Heights were definitely raised, there were long, suspicious stares directed at their descending craft, but Lugnut had done as instructed and they were permitted to land on the House Boltax landing strip without question or any real scrutiny. He and Megatron remained seated in the cockpit, waiting as they had been instructed to do. "How far do you trust him?" Megatron quietly asked as he studied the grounds crew keeping their distance.

"Reptilion?" Soundwave replied. "He was definitely hiding something, his anxiety levels rose as we approached certain areas of his facility, but his interest in doing business with us was genuine."

Megatron smiled. "Reptilion undoubtedly has many secrets, he has benefactors outside of us. But no, I was actually referring to Rabattus. How far do you trust him?"

"I don't." Soundwave replied. "He is competent, there is no question there. I trust him to accomplish any task that is in his best interest. But I have no doubt he would betray any of us should it benefit him in the least." He looked and started intensely into Megatron's optics. "And you should know that he despises you. He despises all common born, even Starscream Nexus."

"So it goes beyond mere arrogance then." Megatron muttered as he noticed something in the sky. Soundwave turned to follow his gaze and noted a luxury craft, one far smaller and of lower quality than the personal crafts of House Torrent, descending from the sky and landing on the tarmac. "Good, he's here. I can't wait to get out of this frigid shithole."

"Believe it or not, it actually gets much colder than this in the Torus Heights." Soundwave stated, a statement that Megatron chose not to respond to. They watched in silence as the massive Lugnut ducked out through the open doorway and strode forward. A moment later Rabattus Decimus followed him out and the two briefly chatted before they nodded to one another and Rabattus headed toward the craft Soundwave was piloting. Seconds later Rabattus was entering the passenger section. "Greetings Lord Decimus."

"Greetings Lord Wave." Rabattus cheerfully said as he poked his head into the cockpit. "How long before we're back in Kaon?"

"In the upper atmosphere at this craft's top speed, it will take us six hours." Soundwave replied.

"Ughn, I guess that'll give me a few hours to recharge." Rabattus declared mirthfully before turning to the robot in the co-pilot seat. "Greetings to you, Megatron of Tarn."

"It is good to see you again, my lord." Megatron answered with a smile. "How went your dealings with the grieving Pax's?"

"Not well," Rabattus chuckled, "not well at all. But I'd rather not discuss the Pax's anymore; Soundwave has enjoyed your company all day, mighty Megatron, come back here and discuss your progress with me." Megatron nodded, and a moment later he was in the passenger section, though close enough to the doorway where Soundwave could have listened in even without his enhancements. "So tell me how your meeting with Shockwave's secret scientific colleague went."

"It went well, he definitely seems eager to work with us." Megatron replied. "With the untraceable munitions and operatives supplied by you, House Macht, House Modus, House Onyx, Swindle and now with whatever Reptilion can whip together, we will have the entire planet quivering in utter terror and calling for Autobot sparks."

"Good." Rabattus smiled. "Most excellent."

"I must ask, my lord." Megatron pressed. "Could this not work against us? In light of recent events, the Autobots have definitely overtaken our fighting circuit in terms of Sentinel Prime and his security forces' focus. Our efforts to turn the planet against them will likely be very successful, and lacking the support of the populace, they'll likely be wiped out quickly, leaving Prime nothing to focus on but us."

Rabattus smiled and laughed lightly. "Very true, Megatron, you are a very clever commoner. I've already made mention of this to Soundwave, but I think I can trust you with it as well. Yes, the public will turn against the Autobots, but they will be equally terrified of Sentinel Prime. He is a very high strung puppet, and I plan to play him to our benefit."

"Playing both ends against the public, create chaos from all sides so that in time the public turns on them all?" Megatron smiled. "If only there were somebody in a position to solve all the problems. To put our chaotic house in order."

"If only." Rabattus chuckled.

Megatron leaned his smiling head back and stared at the ceiling of the craft, and while he didn't say anything, Soundwave felt a wave of clarity and amusement emanate from him. He then felt a thought-message being sent his way, and permitted it. He felt Megatron's laughter tickling his brain, laughter surrounding the words 'All hail Rabattus Prime'. Soundwave's optic flared, and he allowed himself an internal chuckle at their companion's ambition as well.

Roller Pax

That one hurt. Roller groaned only slightly as he lifted his body off of the training floor. "Best three out of five."

Roadbuster chuckled lightly before nodding and once again squaring up across from Roller, both of them taking on combat stances. They both shot their hands out tentatively, feeling their opponent out and testing for any potential openings. After nearly a minute of circling, Roller sensed and opportunity to take Roadbuster down and lunged. Roadbuster defended, revealing the opening to have been a trap, and after a series of twists, grips and pulls, Roller once again found himself flat on his back. "Damnit!"

"Be charitable to yourself, lord Pax." Roadbuster pleaded. "You know the moves, you formulate good strategies, but it'll take years to develop the metal-memory to the point of it being second nature. And until then, you'll be playing catch-up with me and any of the other guards."

"Years?" Roller grumbled. "How old was Orion when he left for Nova Cronum?"

Roadbuster shrugged. "A few months."

"Yet I remember him mopping this floor with all of us." Roller replied. "Does his metal have a better memory than mine?"

The large red Inferno walked over chuckling. "That kid was so strong, so fast and so durable that even if his metal couldn't retain anything, he'd be mopping the floor with us."

"Your brother is a specimen." Roadbuster said as he gently cupped his hand over Roller's shoulder. "I mean, he tossed Prime aside as an afterthought." The room suddenly went silent, and Roadbuster lowered his head. "I apologize Lord Pax, I didn't mean,"

"No apologies, you said nothing wrong." Roller calmly stated, a small smile crawling over his face. "The image of Orion manhandling Prime is the only thing bringing any level of joy to my life."

"Lord Pax?" Everyone turned to see A-Three standing in the doorway. "Your friend Dion is holding for you on the main line. Perhaps you'd like to take it in your suite?"

"Why didn't he just contact me via personal frequency?" Roller muttered.

"Probably testing the waters, giving you an opportunity for privacy in case you need it." Inferno replied. "Just know that Olnius has Tyger Pax under lock-down for the time being, so no sneaking out. If your buddy wants to hang, he's going to have to come here."

"Yeah, yeah." Roller muttered as he walked past A-Three and headed toward his suite. Once the door sealed shut he switched open the channel with the holding call. "Dion?"

"No…brother."

"Orion!" Roller gasped, and sat down close to the speaker so that the conversation could be kept as quiet as possible. "Brother, what are you doing, they can trace your signal!"

"It's…it's more than I deserve to hear you call me brother." Orion replied. "I am no longer worthy, I have brought all of this upon us. I have been nothing but a curse to House Pax."

"Enough of that bullshit, Orion Pax!" Roller snarled. "You and that piece of shit Sentinel Honorum are the only ones that think that! The rest of us consider you a gift! Now get the hell off the wire and relocate, because they're tracing you as we speak!"

"No, we've got a communications wizard in our ranks." Orion replied. "By all appearances, you really are receiving this call from The Wolf at the Door."

Roller chuckled and relaxed a bit. "Yeah, Blaster, right?"

"Yeah." Orion replied. "You've studied up on the Autobots?"

"Well yeah, since last night I've done nothing but read up on your band of merry men." Roller answered with a pained chuckle. "My brother the Autobot."

"Brother, I'm…I know you're going to tell me it's not my fault, but it is." Orion replied. "I saw Arlon after it happened, I could have…I should have…"

"What, kidnapped him?" Roller snapped. "We both knew Arlon Pax…hell, I knew him better than you. But we both knew him well enough to know that when he saw you following that little jailbreak of yours, he knew exactly what he was going to do, and I'm sure he had a notion that Sentinel may have reacted as he did. And even had he known Sentinel would kill him, do you honestly think he'd have done anything differently?" The dark blue royal posed. "And do you really think he'd have let you pull him away? I mean, I know you're strong and all, but he'd have hind-kicked you through a slaggin' wall had you tried that nonsense, and you know it! This is not your doing, it's Sentinel Honorum's. All you did was the right thing; to quote our father, never apologize for doing the right thing."

"I hear you. I even agree with you on some level." Orion despondently muttered. "But ultimately had I not been there; had I not done what I did, Arlon would be alive."

"No, he wouldn't." Roller quietly responded. "Yes, his spark would likely still be pulsing, but he would have witnessed the execution of citizens only guilty of fighting an injustice in the only non-lethal manner left available to them. He would have witnessed it, and been unable to do anything to stop it, and that would have weighed on him. Yes, because of what happened, he died, but he died fighting for justice, and he died defending someone he loved. He died whole." Both Roller and Orion barely quelled a sob. "He died for a just cause; your cause. It's now up to us to make sure he didn't die in vain."

"Us?" Orion asked. "Roller, Cybertron needs House Pax, and House Pax needs you. Stay strong, but don't do anything that can endanger the House."

"Look, you don't need to worry about me." Roller shifted in his seat. "How are you? Last I heard, prior to the broadcast, was Elita telling me that you'd been forced to kill someone, and then you charged off into what had to be a trap, and then you simply vanished. Hell, I thought you were dead until I saw you storming the Senate."

"It's been…yes, it's been a difficult couple of days." Orion said sadly, but then a slight laugh came through. "I got beat up too."

"How many?" Roller asked.

"One. Unarmed, fair fight…yeah, he'd been enhanced, but otherwise as fair as can be." Orion answered. "I got my ass handed to me."

"Impossible. One guy?" Roller questioned. "Not buying it, pretty-boy. Who could pull that feat off?"

"Gladiator from Tarn." Orion explained. "And I'm glad it happened. Ratchet said I needed a lesson in failure, and I walked awa…well, I survived it anyway, so I guess it's a good thing. But enough about me, what are you planning on doing? I'm serious, you can't do anything that will endanger the house!"

"Olnius is going to knuckle under like a bitch." Roller grumbled. "I'm not going to be a part of that. Don't worry, I'll make it clear that I speak only for myself."

"No! It won't be seen that way!" Orion snapped. "I'm common born, my defection to the Autobots can be explained away. House Pax can distance itself from me; and that's what they'd better do! But you, you're one of them, down to your CNA. You defecting will be seen as a reflection of the house. The royals and nobles will turn on you, all of them. You may think you're only facing down Sentinel and House Honorum, but if you go rogue, all Houses will stand against House Pax. It's understandable for House Pax to be enraged by what's happened, but you are to stand by whatever decision the House makes. You must do this to protect them! Promise me brother."

"Orion…" Roller paused, his thoughts conflicted, "I want no harm to come to our House, but I cannot sit by and do nothing. I cannot allow this to pass."

"Brother, I need you to hold the fort." Orion replied sternly. "I know it's a sacrifice, I know I'm asking a lot of you, but you must stand down. Stay strong, play the long game, do not react!"

"Are you giving me an order?" Roller asked, but without the hint of a challenge.

"No…well, yes." Orion replied. "I don't mean to presume anything,"

"No, I'm not mad. You're just really good at it." Roller chuckled.

"Well, I'm a cop, so, you know." Orion replied. "Look, I know you pretty well. Well enough to realize that there's a seventy percent chance that you'll tell me what I need to hear to believe you'll be good, and then set off to do something impulsive."

"Something impulsive?" Roller growled. "I seek justice, is that impulsive?"

"Well, yeah." Orion replied. "I thought it was pretty apt. I was about to say stupid, but figured impulsive was a better option."

"You stormed the Primus-damned Senate and threw hands with the Prime!" Roller blurted. "You don't get to accuse me of being impulsive!"

"Meet me brother." Orion pled. "Let us discuss this face to face."

"Oh yeah, great idea." Roller replied sarcastically. "Do you want to swing by here with your Autobot buddies? We might get twenty minutes of conversation in before the planetary military blasted their way in. Or should I swing by your abode, because clearly Prowl isn't going to be paying attention to my movements."

"Oh, like Dion can't smuggle you out of the Torus Heights." Orion replied. "I only hope your strategy for getting out of Tyger Pax has advanced since our first foray into Polarus."

"That went off without a hitch until you got all chivalrous and picked a fight with our new best friend Lugnut Boltax." Roller quipped.

"What?" Orion asked. "What do you mean new best friend."

"Lugnut was hear a few hours ago, swearing that he and House Boltax were with us til the end." Roller replied. "He seemed sincere."

"He wasn't." Orion grumbled. "Do not trust Lugnut, I'll explain when we meet, but his loyalties are definitely not to House Pax or The Torus Heights. And obviously we'd meet somewhere neutral."

"How about Hyperious?" Roller suggested. "Word on the street is that the Emir of Axiom might have a soft spot for you…or at the very least he has a soft spot for someone who has a soft spot for you."

"Which is why we can't pick Axiom. While not well known, my…friendship with Elita Solus likely isn't a secret, and even if I didn't have reason to believe Prowl was watching her, I would not endanger House Solus in such a way." Orion replied. "I'm thinking the emirate of Nyon. Specifically Gygax. More specifically, the Gygaxian Academy of Sciences."

"Primus, is that place even real?" Roller asked. "I mean, I know it was the spearhead of some attempt to modernize Nyon a few million years back, world class university in the heart of beastland and all, but it barely got off the ground and was abandoned."

"Not quite abandoned, but close enough so that it'd be easy for us to get in and out without being noticed." Orion clarified.

"Uhm, I thought you Autobots were REALLY hunted in the south." Roller pressed.

"After last night, we're really hunted everywhere." Orion replied. "How soon can you get there?"

Roller paused. "I can be there tonight. Like in six or seven hours."

"Great, I'll meet you there." Orion replied, relief clearly evident in his voice. "Be careful brother."

"You too." Roller replied as he closed the signal. He would need to contact Dion immediately, but he would need to do so in person. Despite Inferno's threat, he would be sneaking out of Tyger Pax now. He walked to the door and activated it to slide open, revealing A-Three on the other side. "Primus!" The startled utterance blurted out.

"No, just me." A-Three replied in a deadpan manner as he stepped into the room. "Close the door."

"Look A-Three, I would love to chat, but I need to…I need to do something." Roller grumbled.

"Your brother's impersonation of Dion is good, but not that good." A-Three stated as he peered out the window. "I have a question for you, Roller Pax." The ancient robot turned and stared intently at Roller. "Are you your brother's keeper?"

The confused Roller stared at A-Three for many moments before finally answering resolutely. "Yes, I am."

"Good, because despite what he thinks, Orion Pax will need you." A-Three answered. "I am going to tell you a story. My story. And Gallus Honorum's story. And within those stories lies a prophecy. Upon hearing the prophecy you'll understand ultimately whose stories these truly belong to. And hopefully you'll agree that actions, drastic actions, need to be taken to ensure this person's story continues. Now sit down and listen."

Elita Solus 

It was still referred to as a workshop, but the term didn't accurately cover what the enterprise had become over the years. Erector may have started out as a small time smith, but word of his craftsmanship, his creativity, and his ingenuity had spread, and soon his small forge had expanded into the complex that Elita was walking into now. Employees scurried around, looking over blueprints, engineers pushing grand designs with little regard to practicality or budget, project managers trying to reign their aspirations in to better fit what the existing customers want, salespeople counteracting their attempts by promising to sell anything and everything that can be produced, demand planners trying to force the project managers and salespeople to recognize lead times and begging the engineers to work excess or obsolete inventory into their plans, and floor level workers putting it all together. It was a manufacturing plant that could rival many of those in the Tagan Heights. But Elita wasn't there for the industry, she needed Erector himself, to do a job more reflective of his smith-roots than his current status as the proprietor of an engineering firm.

Elita marched up a set of stairs and into a narrow hallway, toward the large office at the end of that hallway. She knocked gently on the open door, marveling at the disparity between the large room and the miniscule robot it was made for. Erector, the eight foot tall orange/yellow robot behind a desk more appropriately sized for him, looked up and was startled at seeing who was visiting him. "Lady Elita, it is an honor to have you here." He stammered as he stood up from his chair and walked around the desk, displaying a bow as he finally rounded it. "What is it that I can do for you?"

"I have need of your skills." Elita smiled. "It is a small task, but I will pay you well for it."

"I would be happy to provide any service you like, my lady." Erector answered with a smile as well.

Elita nodded gracefully, her smile in place, but there was a nervousness. "Body adornment; a brand really."

"Excellent." Erector smiled. "A symbol of House Solus, perhaps your House words?"

Elita gently shook her head. "No, nothing related to House Solus."

"Ah, just standard ornamentation?" Erector questioned, a puzzled look on his face. "I'm flattered you came to me, but any tattoo parlor could likely handle this."

"You're the best, and I want it done right." Elita said as she strode further into the room and took a seat on a full-sized couch against the wall. "I want a symbol attached to my upper chest-plate, on the lighter shade of pink."

"That's certainly no problem." Erector said as he stepped closer and looked at the area to be worked on. "And what would you like there?"

Elita paused, not eager to witness Erector's reaction to her response. "The face of the Common Man."

Erector raised his gaze, meeting her optics with widely stretched ones of his own, a look of surprise and disbelief on his face. "My lady, surely you jest."

"I do not." Elita replied calmly and politely, but leaving no room for doubt that she was serious.

"My lady, I…you can't…there's no way." Erector stammered. "What you're asking, it's, it's taboo. You would be an outcast, a pariah to all nobility, and I, well, the good fortune I've experienced for years would be a thing of the past. Please rethink your request."

"I am not doing this capriciously." Elita replied. "This is something I insist you perform."

"My lady, if you truly respect the cause of the Autobots, then you wouldn't be able to force me to do something I am hesitant to do." Erector responded. "And if you still feel as though you can obligate me to do it, then perhaps the symbol isn't as fitting as you would think."

Elita stared down at the floor a moment, and then nodded. "You're right. I cannot force you to do something you do not wish to. I thank you for your time, Erector." Elita stood up and turned to leave.

"My lady, please understand that it pains me to turn you down." Erector then looked down as well. "And it humbles me to see you willing to take a stance for a cause that would run contrary to your well-being. I lack your courage and integrity. It is a cause that is in my own best interests, and I lack the courage to display my support."

"You have courage, Erector," a voice from the hallway said calmly, and the both of them turned to see Exponum One standing in the doorway, "but we must let the cause foment, gather strength, before we can lend our support publicly. Until that point, we use our positions to aid them without endangering those positions. You can serve them as an industrialist, I can serve them as an emir, but neither of us are any good to them if we're in prison, and it's unlikely that those who would replace us would be of any assistance to the Autobots. Though…" he emphasized as he gazed intently at Elita, "measures can be taken so that should we lose our positions for whatever reason, we can influence who it is that replaces us, and make sure that the support we offer to the cause lives on."

"You are wise and kind, Emir One, and I am unworthy." Erector bowed.

"I like flattery as much as the next person, Erector, but believe me, you are not unworthy." Exponum replied, still locking optics with Elita. "All are worthy, at least until word and deed remove that from them."

"What do you mean by influencing who it is that replaces you?" Elita asked.

"You're a smart young femme, I think you can guess what I mean." Exponum replied with a smile.

"Young being the operative word." Elita answered. "Much too young for the house to vote in as One should anything happen to you."

Exponum shrugged and gave a light chuckle. "Well ideally we'd both be quite a bit older before that would ever come to pass, but even now, in your youth, you possess the wisdom, compassion, intelligence and leadership charisma to be a great One, an opinion which I have recently made known to the rest of the house."

"My One…" Elita gasped and bowed her head, "I am not worthy."

"Did you not listen to anything I said to Erector?" Exponum replied with a grin. "Besides, you're not that young. You're beyond the age of self determination, and a full vectoral pulse older than Orion Pax, who to hear the whispers of the common-folk, should be the next Prime."

"Ha!" Elita gave a spark-felt laugh. "The Hand, Primus and the Senate gathered before him to offer the Matrix on bended knee wouldn't be enough to get him to take on that honor. Being the center of attention is the greatest of tortures for sweet Orion…" Elita's good humor quickly faded as her gaze fell to the floor and she pondered Orion's fate for the thousandth time that day, "my poor, tortured Orion." She whispered, then looked up at Exponum. "I should be with him."

"You are with him, my dear." Exponum replied. "We all are; and he knows it, wherever he is."

The silence stretched for several seconds before the two noticed Erector staring back and forth between the both of them in wonder and awe. "You…you really know Orion Pax?" He was unable to hide the admiration in his voice. Elita and Exponum both laughed.

Militus Macht

"Had you done what you were tasked to do, what you assured me you would handle, none of this would have happened!" The voice of Sentinel Prime raged through the speaker on Militus's desk. "But you failed! You had months to accomplish this, yet you failed! A simple Primus-damned task that you slagging failed to accomplish! And now, this minor pain in my ass is a smelting hero; a veritable demi-god to the unwashed masses! Autobots that had been plaguing our way of life for years who should be empty husks now are free to continue their bullshit! Oh yeah, they've also reached hero status with the peasants too. And me, not only do I look ineffectual, but I execute the most beloved emir on the planet!"

"If anything, killing that soft-sparked beast reestablished respect for you in the south." Militus replied.

"Shut up!" Sentinel roared. "I couldn't care less what southern twits think of me! A Polyhexian could respect the hell out of me, but they'd still cut my spark out given a chance!"

Militus rolled his optics before responding. "Your grace, I apologize for my failure. Please know that you have my full support in any and all future action you will take against the Autobots or House Pax."

"Not that it's any of your concern, but the situation with House Pax will be smoothed over." Sentinel snarled. "Orion is not to be considered a member of their house. He is a rogue and a traitor, and will be hunted down and eliminated as such."

"Just tell me what you need of me." Militus offered, catching sight through his office window of a shuttle descending in the darkening sky over the landing platform of House Macht.

"Nothing at the moment, but be ready to obey any future commands I might have!" Sentinel grumbled. "And be sure to accomplish them in the future. I will tolerate no further failure, Emir Macht!" With that the connection was severed.

Militus pondered his situation for several minutes before a knock at his door tore him from his thoughts. "Come."

In walked Rabattus Decimus, Soundwave and Megatron. "Greetings Emir Macht. It is so goo…"

"Enough." Militus interrupted Rabattus's flowing greeting. "I've had my fill of pretty platitudes for the day." The emir of Polyhex looked up at Megatron. "Cutting it a bit close, don't you think? You're scheduled to fight in a few hours."

"Aye, tighter than I'd like, Emir Macht, but I'll have no problem getting to the arena on time." Megatron replied.

"Go." Militus waved the gladiator away. "Go win me money and prestige to partially offset your utter failure in Rodion."

"Aye, my lord," Megatron replied, barely subduing his desire to lash out, "it will be my honor."

Militus watched as Megatron left, then turned his gaze to the two royals. "I always imagined the day after the death of Arlon Pax would be one of celebration for me; instead I've spent it dreading an irate call from our irrational Prime, before receiving that call and being chewed out. Frankly I expected worse from him, but a full day of apprehension wears away at one's spark." He muttered, staring down at his desk. "Do I want to know what the three of you have been up to?"

"No, you probably don't. Plausible deniability is a tremendous asset, especially given the tenacity and creativity of Prowl." Rabattus replied. "Just know that we are acting in our collective best interests."

"So be it." The mentally and emotionally exhausted Militus replied dismissively. "You are both welcome to the hospitality of Castle Macht."

"Thank you, lord Macht." Rabattus replied. "But it is best if we're not seen here."

"Then go home." Militus snapped as he stood up from his chair. "I don't care what you do, but never question the security of my house. Word of your presence here will not leave these walls." With that he marched past the two royals and exited the room.

Orion Pax

The Hall of Ancient Mega Fauna was beyond impressive, possessing recreations and fossilized skeletons of all manner of the ancient dracosaurs that once ruled the planet. Orion peered up at an impressive specimen, a carnivorous bipedal terror with a large cranium possessing enormous clamp-like jaws lined with razor-sharp daggers. When alive the beast would have measured fifty feet from tip of the nose to the tip of its tail, its long powerful legs allowing it to run up to fifty miles per hour, and its slender but powerful arms reaching out at the prey it ran down and pulling it into the clenching death of its jaws. Orion imagined the hunt and felt for the poor organics forced to battle for every second of their survival. Of course, that description could be used for this new life he had created for himself. He looked over at his companions, Jazz and Bumblebee, as they too took in the exhibits of the monstrous creatures.

"So what happened to these guys?" Jazz whispered, but the silence of the room enabled Orion to hear the question despite being a couple dozen yards away.

"Went extinct, like, twenty five million years ago." Bumblebee replied.

"How?" Jazz asked. "Asteroid impact or something?"

"What?" Bumblebee asked. "An asteroid impact can kill a handful or so animals, but it can't create a planetary extinction."

"Uh, yeah it can." Jazz replied. "A big enough rock can kick up enough debris to cause a nuclear winter."

"What? What's that, and how can a long winter wipe out all of the dracosaurs?" Bumblebee asked skeptically. "Yeah, a bunch, but not all species all over the world."

"Naw man, you're not thinking about it the right way." Jazz explained. "Our sustenance comes from Cybertron, organics get their sustenance directly or indirectly from the sun."

"What? Now you're just messing with me." Bumblebee replied. "They either eat plants or animals that eat plants. And plants come from the ground."

"Plants get their energy from photosynthesis, which comes from solar energy." Jazz clarified. "You block out the sun for a few months, you get no plants. No plants, no herbivores, no herbivores, no carnivores. Boom, no dracosaurs."

"It's a good theory, but the evidence suggests they were hunted to extinction." Orion interjected.

"Who told you that?" Jazz asked skeptically.

"The Polyhistor of Tyger Pax." Orion replied, an answer that silenced and humbled the commoners who had relied on their own efforts in various public libraries for their own educations. "These fossils are fairly intact, but the vast majority of dracosaur remains, especially those of the truly gigantic species, were obliterated. Crushed and ground to powder, only identifiable by the tiniest of pieces. And it appears as though any consumption of their remains was done by other creatures their own size or smaller who scavenged their remains afterward. This suggests that whatever killed them was not only large enough to destroy their bodies, but uninterested in eating them."

"So spark-based life." Bumblebee replied, scared that he may be right.

"That's what the little amount of evidence we have suggests." Orion replied, continuing to study the exhibits as he did so.

"Wait, how big are we talkin' here?" Jazz asked. "Like a planet full of Omega Supremes?"

"What's an Omega Supreme?" Bumblebee asked.

"Damn, man, get an education kid." Jazz grumbled.

"I'm a year old, and unlike lord Pax over there, I didn't grow up with a polyhistor!" Bumblebee growled. "So back off!"

Jazz chuckled lightly. "Alright, sorry kid." Jazz looked up at Orion. "Well, continue Lord Pax, the floor is yours."

Orion chuckled lightly. "Some were roughly the size of Omega Supreme, from what I've been told anyway. Despite hailing from The Torus Heights, I've never been to the Tartarun Pits. But yes, his size in most cases, but there's evidence of destroyers much larger. Based on impact craters some paleontologists believe to be footprints, it would be as if a spark gave life to a large building, or even a small mountain."

"OK, now you're messing with us." Bumblebee shot back in disbelief. "Even a green spark couldn't give life to something that big."

"You're right." Orion replied. "An ignis superious couldn't bestow that much life-energy. My polyhistor suggested the possibility that in the very distant past Vector Sigma's initial pulses may have been more akin to bursts, eruptions, giving off fewer but more powerful sparks of life; more ignis superious's than what we see today, and perhaps a few sparks of even greater power. A-Three used the term ignis deva, apparently the term means divine or something similar in a long forgotten language. He theorized that as the eons passed, the power levels seemed to level off, to stabilize into something similar to what we see today."

"Damn," Bumblebee muttered, "and I don't even know what an Omega Supreme is."

Jazz chuckled. "I can't even imagine something so big that its shell mode is a mountain."

"Well, their existence is speculation at best. Nothing more than lots and lots of crushed dracosaur bones to suggest they ever existed." Orion clarified.

"And I thought A-Three did a good job of deflating the balloon after blowing it up." Roller's voice cut through the darkness. Orion turned toward Roller, A-Three, Roadbuster and Ironhide walking into the hall, and ran to them, embracing Roller. "Brother."

"Brother." Orion replied quietly. He then looked to A-Three and went to hug him as well, then turning to the Pax guard and the constable of Polarus, he shook their wrists. "My friends, it's so good to see you. Thank you for escorting Roller." Orion then turned to Roller. "I thought you'd be coming alone."

Roller looked over at Jazz and Bumblebee. "I thought you'd be alone too."

Jazz chuckled. "In the last twenty-four hours our recruitment numbers have gone up at least a hundred-fold. We ain't lettin' nothin' happen to our new poster-boy here."

"Roller, A-Three, Ironhide, Roadbuster, this is Jazz and Bumblebee." Orion made the introductions.

"He's not your poster-boy!" Roller snapped, then looked to Orion, an odd expression on his face. "He's a promise."

"What?" Orion asked.

"He's referring to a promise I made." A-Three chimed in, clearly trying to change the subject. "One made to Sentinel Honorum." The old robot smiled and nodded. "And it's time I made good on that promise."

"Orion, we need to leave." Jazz nervously uttered, inching his way toward Orion.

"Relax, Autobot, it was less a promise to Sentinel Honorum, more a threat." A-Three clarified, the clarification only marginally relieving Jazz's anxiety. The older robot then turned back to Orion. "You and I must leave."

"Leave?" Orion asked. "Where to?"

"For you, somewhere safe." A-Three replied. "For me, a quest to retrieve…something. I will leave as A-Three, I will return as someone else."

"You guys aren't taking him anywhere." Bumblebee warned. "Orion, I know you think they're your friends, but what we're seeing is a royal and his subjects trying to abscond with the most wanted Autobot on the planet."

"Look guys, you have to see it from our perspective. You represent the nobility; we represent a society without a nobility. And Orion Pax is a huge black eye to the nobility. And you're trying to whisk him away." Jazz said to the Polaruns.

"Abscond is better than whisk." Bumblebee whispered.

"Shut up." Jazz whispered back.

"Gentlemen," A-Three raised his hands in an attempt to calm things, "I promise you, we have nothing but Orion Pax's best interests in mind."

"Enough." Orion stated authoritatively. "I requested this meeting to convince Roller not to do anything rash. We're not here to protect me."

"I'm sorry brother," Roller stepped toward Orion and slapped a hand against Orion's chest, "but we are." A light sizzle sound could be heard, and Orion was overwhelmed by power for less than a second, immediately followed by a numbing that spread quickly through his body. The shorter Roller seemed to grow, but Orion quickly realized that he was collapsing to the floor. He looked up at the robots, his brother and friends, all erupt into action as his vision started going black. "Back off, we're taking him with us!" The sounds of scuffling faded away to nothing.


	11. Chapter 11

Sea Clamp

It had been centuries since he had last been here, centuries since he had seen another Cybertronian. Even his 'brood', as he referred to them, had been avoided for that time. They had been avoiding each other on and off for over 11 millennia, since the destruction of Atlantida and the end of the last Beast War. There were presumed dead by the victorious Maximals, and not being nearly as zealous about their cause as Cryotek or Magmatron before them, they decided to let the victorious Maximals continue with that presumption through the end of time if possible. They were already nearly impossible to detect in their deoxyribonucleic acid-mimicking shell modes…unless spotted visually by an individual who happened to know the correct sizes of the animals they were mimicking, so it was easy for them to simply vanish and remain vanished on this large and vastly uncharted world. They had agreed to move what little Cybertronian tech they had managed to recover to one of the thus far undiscovered continents in the western hemisphere…only to discover that the humans of Asia had arrived in this new world a few thousand years before and had spread throughout much of both continents. But they were frail, flesh and bone, and their technology was and would continue to be a joke for many millennia to come. Hell, it was still a joke; they had yet to leave the confines of their own planet. So, deep in this swampland, the Everglades as the humans currently in this region called them, they felt safe in keeping their little base of operations.

But further precautions needed to be taken, one of which was to refrain from meeting unless necessary, which barring the occasional meetings to keep the isolation from driving them insane, they had adhered to. Sea Clamp had assumed it would be at least another century before one of his comrades, probably Cicadacon, would feel the itch and request a meeting, so the summons, one that sounded more official than their situation would seem to warrant, caught him off guard. The giant lobster finally breached the surface, causing an alligator sunning itself on a nearby stretch of dirt to shift and consider attacking the intruder. The beast glared at the lobster, unsure of what to make of the potential threat, but eventually let the giant crustacean glide along unmolested.

A few minutes later he himself had reached the muddy shore he had traveled over a thousand miles to get to and transformed, walking through the thick brush, snapping limbs and disrupting the landscape. Ideally he would try to get through with minimal evidence of his presence, but given his sixteen foot metal frame, there was no avoiding a mess. He pushed through the thick brush until finally reaching the cave mouth leading downward into the ground, and proceeded downward, needing to crouch as he did so. After a quarter mile of darkness he finally emerged into a dark, dank cavern and felt the familiar tingle as he entered the presence of his two dearest, and last remaining friends. He looked upon their hideous faces and smiled. "Brothers, it is good to see you again."

The green and white robot, the smallest of the three at thirteen feet in height, nodded and replied tersely. "We expected you days ago, Sea Clamp."

"It's a big ocean, Cicadacon, and some of us don't have wings." Sea Clamp grumbled back.

"I can't fly, and didn't have any problem getting here on time." The monstrous looking fourteen foot tall purple-brown robot snapped.

"You live in Honduras, it's a short trip for you, Ramhorn. Newfoundland to Florida is a bit of a haul." The purple newcomer replied with annoyance before turning back to Cicadacon. "Why are we here?"

"You remember when we set up this facility that we decided the one bit of tech we'd keep operational was the communications scanner, right?" Cicadacon asked, suppressing excitement. He waited for a nod from Sea Clamp before continuing. "Well, several days ago an extraterrestrial signal breached the planet's atmosphere and was received somewhere in the polar region."

"The Axalon!" Sea Clamp all but shouted.

"I can't replay the original message, but I was able to decipher the encryption code used and configure the equipment so that it would receive and decrypt any future incoming transmissions." Cicadacon explained.

"So we just wait and hope for another phone call?" Sea Clamp asked, his excitement draining from his voice.

"That phone call came in this afternoon." Ramhorn replied. "If you'd have arrived much later we'd have had to leave without you."

"Leave without me?" Sea Clamp asked, once again excited.

Cicadacon reached over to the ancient communications array and activated it. An unknown voice emanated from the speakers. "Polar Claw, come in."

Shrugging, Cicadacon reached over and pressed another button. "Gonna fast forward a bit; it was over an hour before the furry lunk finally replied. I guess he was out playing in the snow or something."

With another push of a button the recorded conversation continued through the speakers, this time the voice was one they all recognized. "Polar Claw here, who's calling?"

"Hello Polar Claw, this is Atrium of the Crystal City again." The unknown voice replied seconds later.

"Still going with Atrium, huh?"

"For now that would be best, though, well, we can discuss my plans in person."

"In person?" Polar Claw gave a surprised chuckle. "You comin' here? 'Cause the ol' Axalon hasn't been functional since the first war two hundred forty thousand years ago."

"Yes, I'll be coming to you." The voice replied. "And if you so desire, I can return to Cybertron with you and your crew. You have gone above and beyond the call of duty, and a return home is long overdue."

"The Maximals will be thrilled to hear it, though I'm not sure we're ready for that." Polar Claw replied with hesitant excitement. "You said Cybertron wasn't ready to know the truth. Are you telling me that you accomplished in a few days what you couldn't do in the million years that preceded them?"

There was a long pause. "No, Cybertron is still not ready, but it is time for it to be made ready, forcefully if necessary." This Atrium replied. "I need to retrieve the Matrix, there is one who is finally worthy of it, and he will usher in a truly golden age, regardless of what happens to me."

"Oh for smelt's sake," the annoyed Maximal grumbled, "another one of your chosen ones? From what I hear you said the same Primus-damned thing about Guardian Prime!"

"I was wrong with Gallus Honorum." The other voice conceded. "I'm not wrong now."

"Why, because this guy talks pretty? He has just the right combination of smarts and strength and charisma? He treats commoners well, almost as equals despite steadfastly maintaining the status quo?" Polar Claw grumbled back. "Sorry, even back in my youth I wasn't one to follow a guy simply because he was favored by a trinket. I don't follow someone simply because he's called a Prime. The only ones I've ever followed were Backstop and House Convoy; why they seemed to have vouched for you, I'll never know."

A light laughter was heard. "I appreciate your cynicism, but I have a feeling that once you lay optics upon him, you will feel the urge to follow this Prime who was promised. I can't explain how or why, but, well, if nothing else, he has a look that you and your crew will respond to."

"What the hell does that mean?" Polar Claw growled.

"I will explain everything in person. Where should I land?" The voice asked.

"When are you coming?"

"I have a few more arrangements here on another colony world, but don't expect them to take long." The voice answered. "I should leave within a few hours."

"Alright, touch down on the outskirts of a small town called San Antonio, New Mexico in the United States of America." Polar Claw replied. "They've been doing some nuclear testing less than 30 miles from there, so any radiation residue from your entry shouldn't seem suspicious, and it's remote enough so that you shouldn't be noticed. I also have a couple operatives in the vicinity who can reconnoiter with you and navigate a path to me that will avoid detection."

"Alright, notify them to expect me." The voice replied. "I'll be there in a few hours."

"Will do…Atrium." Polar Claw's voice was dripping with sarcasm as he said the name, and Cicadacon switched off the recording.

"When did that come in?" Sea Clamp asked with excitement and worry mixed in his voice.

"Just under three hours ago." Ramhorn replied.

"Three hours ago?" Sea Clamp all but yelled. "There's no way we can get to New Mexico in time!"

"Eh, normally yes," Ramhorn chuckled, "but about two hundred years ago I came across one of the Dinosaur's old attack probes, and against my better judgement I brought it back here."

"The moment I got that first message I knew that should another message come through, we might have to get somewhere else on this planet quickly, so I started reconfiguring it to a shuttle." Cicadacon continued.

"A very small, cramped shuttle." Ramhorn interrupted.

"Yes, but one that will fit the three of us." Cicadacon explained forcefully.

"OK, then we might have a chance," Sea Clamp replied uneasily, "but you still should have headed out before. He may have arrived already."

"It had to be all three of us." Ramhorn came back. "I mean, what chance would only two of us have?"

"But with the three of us," Cicadacon displayed a frightening grin, "that ship is ours."

"OK, got it, but we need to get the hell out of here now!" Sea Clamp pressed, eliciting nods and a heading to the back of the cave where the retro-fitted probe likely was.

Pinion

He don't like this. This not copacetic, no matter what the Gar say. This one bein' so big. This one bein' so hard. This one's parts really stuck together, they don't come apart. And he shiny, so shiny. The other off-worlder say he young, so that kinda explain the shiny. Weird seeing someone actually young; like, for real young. There be protoforms in da' vault, they awaken one whenever one of the Zens gets themselves killed by mistaken, or killed by another Zen. Population control, that what the Gar and his Lo-Gars be sayin'. But this one, this big, hard, shiny one, he be born right from the ground of the Cybertron, the source of all the Junk-folk and folk of other colony lands. The Gar, he tell Pinion to watch over this one, to make sure he secure and content, he even use the old words when talking in front of the other off-worlder, the propah-talk. Pinion no like it, but Pinion 'tent; Pinion do bidding. The slab contentable, the room securish, the scary shiny robot continue to sleep.

Scary robot safe. Pinion not safe. Scary robot so big, so hard. He off-worlder, off-worlders hate Junk-folk. And he have fancy off-worlder name. He high born say older Junk-folk who hear name. Pax. 'Pax royal', they say. He here to re-estab the old way, the way of the caste. No Gar or Lo-Gars, just royals and nobles. Gar make decisions, but really he just another Zen like everyone else. He do a bad job of Garring, the Zens pick new Gar. But Gar do great job, no bad decisions…not 'til now. Now royal Pax here, he re-estab the old ways, ways thrown away before protoform Pinion brought to life. Pinion born low, all Junk-folk born low, royal way mean they no longer Zens, just peZens; royal way mean they like slaves.

Pinion high regard the Gar, but this bad. This not copacetic.

"Ughn."

Big shiny robot move, big shiny robot waking up. Pinion gonna be hurt. Big shiny robot gonna dismantle Pinion. Pinion no delight dismantling, Pinion no delight reassembling. Some Junk-folk like reassembling, but some Junk-folk be under-sane. Pinion sane, so Pinion be the scared. Big scary Pax turn head and look at Pinion. Pretty shiny optics blue like copper benzoate powder, fancy helmet color of copper sulfate pentahydrate crystals, face silver and without patch or gash. He fresh, and now he awake and looking at Pinion. He now sitting up. "Lax self, off-worlder."

"I beg your pardon." He say, Pinion hate the propah talk.

Pinion point at shiny Pax-bot. "You, off-worlder. Lax self, no clash wit' Pinion. No ruckus from the Pax."

Pax bot stare at Pinion, but he nod like he 'stands. "No ruckus from the Pax." He smile, mouth pretty and blemish-not. "I've gotten used to waking up in unknown surroundings with unknown people."

Propah talk tricky, words same or like-same, but ordered-dissed and fan-cee. Not mean cee like pretty, like Gar's conjux Nan called Nan-cee, but old word, so Pinion say. It propah talk, Pax-royal speak propah, so Pinion try do the propah talk. "Me Pinion. Pinion to take you to the Gar. But Pax royal to be secure. Pax royal to be content. Pinion 'tent, so Pax be these things, right?"

Again, Pax royal seem confused, but figure. "Yes, I am secure and I am content. But I'm confused."

"Pinion not know to fix confused, just have make secure and content."

"Of course." Pax smile, it almost make Pinion not be the afraid…almost. "What is this Gar you're taking me to?"

"He being the fore-bot o' da' Junk-folk. A Zen like rest o' we, but he make cisions." Pinion losing da' afraidness, Pinion need remindin' that calmness be when da' royal goin' ruckus.

"A democratically chosen leader taken from within their own ranks?" If Pinion not knowin' better, da' off-worlder would seem 'pressed. Pretty mouth stretchin smilin'. "That's…yes, please take me to this Gar."

Pinion might be survivin'. Get to Ah-deance Chamber quick 'nuff then not alone; Gar protect. Go through hall, off-worlder checkin' evrahthing. Look out window, he look saprized. He know he bein' on Junk, righty? He bein' royal, this bein' colony, he knowin' he bein' here. Make it to Ah-deance Chamber, Gar bettah be inside. Open doors, all thanks to da Primus's Hands, there he bein, da' Gar. He fix dis! Pinion no longer needin' ta bein' afraid. Though Pinion not so much bein' afraid o' da' off-worlder no more. "Mighty Gar, Pinion here wid' the off-world Pax-bot."

"Preciation to you Pinion, please have a seat." Da' Gar smile at Pinion, he know Pinion 'tent. "Orion Pax, please take a seat as well." Propah talk, and he point to chair in before hisself. Pinion hope Gar know what he do. Pinion seat self, see Pax-bot sit front the Gar. "You are a lot calmer than I was expecting you to be."

Pax-bot nod an' do pretty smile. Pinion 'zire femmes, but 'ven Pinion think it look cee. Maxkulin, but cee still. "As I explained to Pinion, this isn't the first time I've been knocked out and woken up somewhere unknown. The last time I reacted aggressively to those who were helping me, so this time I figured I'd get my bearings before I decided not to be calm." Da' Gar be laughter at dat. "That said, I am a little…vexed by my last memories prior to waking up, and if Roller Pax or A-Three are around, I would really like to have a word with them."

Da' Gar smile and Gar up 'n down shake head like he know. Gar do know, Gar be smart. "I'm afraid neither of them are on this planet."

"This is the Planet of Junk, isn't it?" Off-worlder say, pratendin' like he figger out, which 'ceivin', 'cause Pinion tellin' off-worlder us Junk-folk. "I've read legends of it, but there's precious little about this world in any of the records I've come across."

"Yes, this is Junk." Gar do splainin'. "I am Wreck Gar. I lead these people, with their consent. Before leaving, Atriu…err, A-Three explained to me what an Autobot is, and that you're one of them, so despite having a royal name you would not be offended in any way by this concept."

"On the contrary, I'm impressed and envious of such a system." Stoopit off-worlder propah talk.

"Well, beyond our penchant for allowing the governed to pick who governs them, what do you think of your former colony world?"

"Based on the two minutes I've had to evaluate the inside of one of its buildings?" Off-worlder give cee smile again. "Well, it's quite cold, and I'm from Polarus. And while it's really not an issue to me, as not being organic I'm not genetically pre-disposed to be repulsed by the smell of rot," Pinion hate propah talk, "but, well, there's rot in the air. Lots of it."

Gar laughter again. "If you find the temperature and the air distasteful, wait until you try our sustenance."

"Oh?" Off-worlder 'fused, but seemin' ta figger sumthin. "Yeah, I guess you wouldn't have access to energon."

"No. With the right energy sources one can synthesize a very close approximation of the element." Gar smart. "Unfortunately, we're too far from our star to really utilize solar power, and are resigned to using what fuel scraps we can scavenge from the junk on the planet. We refine it into a substance we lovingly refer to as swill, and it's sufficient to sustain us, but it'll take you some time to get used to it. In fact, I'd wait until you're almost out of the energon currently in your system, otherwise the taste of the swill might force you to regurgitate the pure energon you have in you out onto the floor."

"If it'll keep me from starving, I'll be more than grateful." Off-worlder seem 'insere, but it act. Royal bein' too good for swill. "I hope my rations aren't cutting into those of your people at all."

"Ha!" Pinion 'prized. Serious stuff, swill rationin', not ta' bein' laughterin'. "A-Three is paying for your keep. Dropped off enough pure energon to feed five Junkions for a vorn. We'll cut it into swill, higher grade swill than we're used to, but it'll be enough to feed thirty Junkions for five vorns. Don't worry, your swill rations come guilt-free."

"Glad to hear it, though I'm not sure that's enough to let A-Three and Roller off the hook." Off-worlder kinda serious 'gan. Pinion see A-Three, but there bein' no Roller wid'.

"Do you think their act malicious?" Gar wid' propah talk.

"Abducting me and getting me off Cybertron." Pax head side-side twistin'. "I know they think they're protecting me; acting in my best interest, but this is still a clear violation of my rights and my trust."

"Your rights? You know you're a fugitive, don't you? You have no legal rights on Cybertron."

"We're not talking about actions taken by Sentinel Prime or Prowl, this is my family."

Gar nod, he feelin' off-worlder. Even Pinion bein' feelin' off-worlder, 'ven though off-worlder danjrus. "Family, huh?" Gar bein' starin' at off-worlder. "You don't look like a Pax. They tend to have kind of a U-shaped thing on their post-protoformal helmet. You get that helmet redesigned? It's pretty fancy."

"No, this is how the metallico naturally took shape."

Gar 'fused, smile stretchin' stache after 'fusion seem ta' leave. "You just look like this naturally? No alterations?"

Off-worlder shruggin'. "Wheels, motors and alterations to my shell mode, but really nothing done to impact by bot mode much. I guess A-Three didn't mention, I'm not really a Pax. I was found by Torenia Pax, she took me in. There's no reason that I should resemble any of them physically. But know that I hold their values as much as if I truly did crawl out of the pool at Tyger Pax."

Gar thinkin' hard, optics bein' distancy. "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings."

"Aye, it is." Off-worlder serious. "Those are as much my words as any Pax."

Gar be noddin' again, he be smilin' like he be figirin' somthin'. "I've always been partial to 'The defense of freedom requires the dedication of the mighty'. Very similar, but less a stating of fact, more a call to action."

"Yes, I know those words as well, A-Three's education was fairly thorough." Off-worlder smart. Not Gar smart as, but smart. "Arlon sometimes talked of House Convoy to me as well; seemingly apropos of nothing. He'd find me alone, smile as he stared at me, and then tell me that they were the influence of many of the Knights of Cybertron, as well as the houses those Knights established. In particular House Pax."

Gar losin' smile. "I was deeply moved when A-Three told me of Arlon Pax. Please know that you have my deepest condolences. He was…he was one of the good ones." Gar bein' sad now, Pinion 'sposin this Arlon Pax been gottin' self killed.

"Thank you, I appreciate that." Off-worlder lean, look 'tently to Gar. "So A-Three dropped me off here. Did he provide any timeframe for when he'd come get me?"

"He did not. Just that the powers that be on Cybertron seek your death, and that I am to keep you safe." Gar bein' smilin' at off-worlder. "I suggest you make yourself at home."

Elita Solus

"So when do you leave?" Elita stared ahead into the crowd before them, hearing Chromia's question directed to their friend Glyph, but not really paying attention to it.

The nine-foot tall blue and silver robot was bubbly as she replied. "Next week. I've wanted to explore the fossil-fields of Nyon since I was a protoform, and I'm finally able to do so!" The spirited little robot darted ahead a few steps, turned on her two companions forcing them to stop, and grinned broadly. "And best of all, Tap-Out gets to come with me!"

"That's wonderful!" Chromia gushed, turning to gauge Elita's reaction and noting with sadness that her friend's focus was somewhere else.

Elita noted the two femmes looking at her and she shook her head apologetically. "I'm sorry Glyph, that truly is wonderful news. I'm just…there's,"

"No need to explain, Lady Elita." Glyph replied. She then turned to Chromia. "No word?"

"Nothing." Chromia answered sadly.

"Well…that's probably a good thing." Glyph stated, lacking certainty. "I mean, if they'd caught him, it'd be all over the newsfeeds. The fact that we've heard nothing would make it seem that he's safe, just laying low, as he should be."

Elita nodded. "I know. I…I just…" she turned her head away from them. "I hate what I've become. I should be out there, helping him, standing beside him, fighting for a just cause. A cause that I knew to be just, but that required me to see his example for me to fully acknowledge to be worth fighting for. And now, even though I know he's right; that the Autobots are right, I still just sit here safely within the borders of Axiom, walking the street of Hyperious as if nothing's changed, allowing close friends to refer to me as 'Lady' Elita. Some Autobot."

"My La…Elita, look, I AM a commoner, and while I bear him no romantic feelings, I am terrified for him as well. The fact is that were it not for Officer Pax, I would either be dead or a slave right now." Chromia grabbed her friend by the arm and spoke intently. "So believe me, my feelings for both Orion and his cause are extremely strong. But there's nothing for us to do. If he contacted you and requested help, do you think you would hesitate for a moment to provide that help and more? Of course not!"

Elita shook her head. "He shouldn't need to ask! I love him, Primus help me I love him. For most of my life I considered the idea of conjux endura or any sort of romantic relationship to be silly stupidity intended to give the emotionally weak something to latch onto. And then I met some post-protoform and all I could think of was how beautiful, and strong, and brilliant, and infuriating he was. And I got to know him over the span of a few months, and all those things still remained, but added were wonderful, and kind, and noble, and courageous, and selfless, and thoughtful, and…" she whipped away, "I love him! He's out there, he's hunted, he's possibly hurt, he's possibly dying, and I'm here. I love him, and he could die never having heard me tell him so!" She covered her face. "I'm such a coward!"

"You are not!" Glyph snapped. "A fugitive can't help Orion Pax, but a Lady in a royal house can. It's not fear keeping you from charging off to find him, it's practicality!"

"And even if you did charge off to find him, you'd either fail to find him, or you'd lead Prime's forces right to him." Chromia added. "Face it Elita, the Autobots know what they're doing."

'BOOM!'

All was black for a moment, but Elita's optics quickly flickered and tried to make sense of what had just happened. She was on the ground, her front side was hot, painfully so, but not so intense as to be incapacitating. She propped herself up to her elbows and looked around. Chromia was on the ground next to her, twisting and groaning, meeting her confused stare with one of her own, but she seemed alright. Glyph was at their feet, face down on the ground, but twisting and moving as well. A moment later she looked up, confusion and fear in her optics as well, but like with Chromia, she seemed not to be injured beyond mild scorching on her back. Elita looked forward, past Glyph toward the heart of the marketplace to try and ascertain what had just happened.

I took her a moment to figure anything out, but she soon realized that an explosion down the street had thrown them all to the ground. Elita's auditory sensors were ringing, but as it started to subside the sounds of screaming cut through everything. She looked up toward the marketplace they had been walking towards, through the slowly falling light debris and took in the bodies spread out all over the street. She immediately jumped to her feet and charged toward the center of the chaos, trying to pinpoint those that needed help most urgently. She made it to where she guessed the epicenter of the blast to have originated from, and noted that of the dozens of frames closest to the area, there were no survivors. She worked her way out, cognizant but undeterred by the likelihood of further blasts, and began grabbing those that were still alive and carefully moving them out to the front of a shop that would serve as a triage center. "Chromia, help me bring the wounded here! Glyph, contact the authorities and alert them to the emergency. Then contact Exponum One and let him know that House Solus's doctors and medical resources are needed here immediately! Do it!"

Elita spearheaded an effort that quickly grew, soon nearly all those that had escaped the blast with no or minimal injuries were assisting those that hadn't been so lucky. Elita charged into a store that had sustained a huge degree of damage, and found another survivor, the femme's left leg blown off and the energon leaking out of her profusely. As Elita gripped the woman she looked up at the scorched wall and froze as her optics rested on a familiar face. The face of the common man. And beneath the scorched image were words. 'Time is up, Cybertron! Either you're with us, or you're against us!'

Wolfang

The large wolf continued to stare up into the sky, but was aware of the heavy footsteps approaching him from behind. He finally turned and looked at the approaching bison, his panting mouth making it look as though the canine was smiling.

The bison nodded and broke cover, or at least would have were there anyone else around to break cover to. "Fang, been awhile."

"Six months, I hardly call that awhile." The wolf muttered before turning back to the sky. "So how have you been this past half year, Bonecrusher?"

"Eh, can't complain. Haven't been shot at in forty years and counting, a record since the melanin-deprived primates started moving west across this continent." The bison replied.

"They're called humans."

"I don't care. They're primates who don't even know they're primates." Bonecrusher grumbled.

"I think you're going to miss those primates when we leave."

"First of all, I'm pretty sure your optimism is misplaced, Wolfang." The bison looked up into the sky as well. "Secondly, even if we do get off this slaggin' mudpile, it's not the humans that I will miss. Blood thirsty butchers."

"All of them?"

"Enough of them." Boncrusher clarified. "Especially the European-descended supplanters. At least with the Asian-descended primates they killed only what they needed, and they made use of almost everything. That, and the arrows were actually fun to shrug off. Bullets don't hurt, but they're tough to dig out of the nanite dermis."

"Well maybe they're changing. After all, you said you haven't be shot at in four decades." The canine turned and grinned at the bison.

"Up your butt, dog." The bison grumbled back.

"I wish I was a dog. K-9 has it easy." Wolfang turned back to the sky. "Bison aren't the only thing humans shoot at. Believe me, I know exactly how annoying bullets are to dig out." The dog squinted as he peered into the distant sky. "Be ready, whoever is coming is here."

"I'm always ready." The bison replied as he also caught site of the descending craft. A few minutes later the ship was touching down on the rocky ground.

A door slid open and out walked a twenty-one foot tall robot in red, blue and purple coloration, metal resembling facial hair over and under his mouth. He stared at the two animals for a moment. "Hello?"

The two animals looked at one another before transforming, the wolf into an eleven foot tall predominantly blue and silver robot, the bison into an eighteen foot tall white and black robot, and both with large portions of their alt-mode fur on display. "You here to take us home?" Bonecrusher stated more than asked.

"Yes, but I have work to do first." The tall robot replied.

"Told you not to get your hopes up." Bonecrusher muttered to Wolfang. "So who are you, anyway?"

"My name…for now my name is Atrium." The older robot replied. "I hail from the Crystal City of Uraya."

"I just wanted your name, I don't give a shit about your life story." Bonecrusher grumbled back.

"So what do you need to get done before we go home?" Wolfang asked.

"I need to retrieve something from the Manifest." The old robot replied, eliciting a laugh from the two Maximals.

"The Manifest?" Bonecrusher snarled.

"You do know it's at the bottom of the Atlantic, right?" Wolfang explained.

"I just traveled across the galaxy," the robot replied, "a few miles of water shouldn't be too hard to traverse."

"Eh, he's got a point." Bonecrusher quipped to his comrade, then looked at the craft. "Not sure that thing will fit all of us."

"Polar Claw provided me with a headcount when we spoke several days ago. It will be tight, but we will be able to accommodate all of you." Atrium replied.

"What do you need out of the Manifest?" Wolfang asked, growing suspicious.

Atrium looked down. "I cannot divulge that at this time."

"What?" Bonecrusher grumbled.

As Atrium considered how to explain himself, Wolfang chimed in. "Look, Atrium of the Crystal City, you're not the only one to have recently spoken to Polar Claw. He informed me that you were the one that set the Convoys, and by extension, us on this…mission, if that's what you want to call it. Something that was supposed to be little more than baby-sitting for a little while turned into three wars claiming the lives of more than half of our crew and a stay on this planet that has gone on for a million years. We're now sharing the planet with an indigenous species that is not only aggressive, but that has increased their weapons capability at a nearly exponential rate over the last millennia, to the point where they now have nuclear capabilities. So you're here telling us that you have an errand to run on the ship that we've sacrificed so much to keep everyone off of, that you can't tell us what you plan to do on that ship, and expect us to sit back and take your words at face value. Well sir, in the words of the hairless primates, go fuck yourself."

"I…I recognize your hesitance," A-Three started to explain.

"Oh, sorry Atrium, but my friend told you to go fuck yourself, and it looks to me like you haven't started doing that yet." Bonecrusher interrupted.

"Look, I know you've sacrificed, and I know I've let you down. I realize I have a great deal to answer for to a great many individuals, and none more so than you Maximals." An agitated A-Three spat back. "But please know that what I plan to do is of the utmost importance." He stared at them, quickly realizing they weren't budging on the issue. "Alright, you have more than earned a right to know. I wish to retrieve the Matrix from the ship."

The two Maximals turned and looked at each other before turning back to Atrium. "Wait, you not only want to enter the Manifest, but you want to enter Guardian Prime as well?" Wolfang asked.

"The bearings on this guy." Bonecrusher stated, almost laughing.

"What if Guardian Prime is still alive?" Wolfang continued. "What if you wake him up? I mean, it's possible he's still in stasis. Granted, it's a longshot, but if he was able to wake up from whatever mickey you slipped him and make some preparations energy-wise, he could have found a way to survive. Hell, maybe it's both he and Galvatron? Maybe the whole damn crew? What then? Legend has it that those two had green sparks. Do you have a green spark?" They smiled as Atrium shook his head in a negative fashion. "Then if they're alive and you awaken either of them, you'll get shredded."

"And we'll have to explain to the rightful and beloved ruler of Cybertron why we simply sat on him and blocked every attempt to rescue him." Bonecrusher added.

"Believe me, when I open up Guardian Prime, he, Galvatron, Jhiaxus and every other member of that command crew will be dead." Atrium replied.

Wolfang chuckled. "Oh, so you plan to snuff any sparks that aren't already snuffed, is that it? Look, I have no respect for the nobility system, and I'm not one to pay much attention to the title of Prime, but I do know that someone more significant than Atrium of the Crystal City needs to be the one to decide whether Guardian Prime lives or dies. Big Convoy didn't give the order to kill him, Lio Convoy didn't give that order, and neither did Primal Convoy, so Atrium's right to do so is blurry to say the least."

"And what of Primon's?" The newcomer asked. Noting the look of surprise on both of their faces, he nodded. "Feel free to verify with Polar Claw, he knows who I am."

"Primon the Abdicator?" Bonecrusher asked.

"Primon the first Prime?" Wolfang added. "Yeah, we're asking Claw, that's for sure."

"Well then, let's get on board and you can lead us to him." The one calling himself Primon stated, turning toward the ship as he did so, but before he could take a step a missile impacted his chest, the explosion sending his smoldering frame bouncing across the rocky desert landscape.

The Maximals turned to see a giant cicada hovering over a giant beetle and a giant lobster a hundred yards away. "What, no, they're dead! They went down with Atlantis!"

"We'd love to play a bit with you two," the cicada snapped, "but after more centuries than we care to count, we're not going to piss away an opportunity to get off this backward planet."

"No, stop 'em!" Bonecrusher yelled out, but by the time they got their weapons out the reconfiguration was already in motion. By the time their first shots impacted their merging target, the locking mechanisms were already latching into place, and therefore, the energy given off by the multi-spark all but repelled the ordinance. Standing fifty feet in height was a horrific monstrosity that they had not laid optics on in over eleven thousand years. "Primus, no. Tripredacus." The Maximal whispered.

The giant beast reached down and grabbed what looked to be a modified probe, and effortlessly flung the craft, hitting Bonecrusher and driving him into a wall of rock a few dozen yards behind them. Wolfang fired repeatedly at the aberration, this mad experiment that had been freed by Magmatron one hundred fifty thousand years ago, knowing the attempt would be futile. The Maximal turned to his comrade and the stranger calling himself Primon and barked out. "Get up and help me with this thing!"

"There is no aid, Maximal!" Tripredacus roared as he started running toward them, covering the distance in a few strides. But he was quickly being peppered with more ordinance from the now-standing Atrium…or Primon, whatever.

"So Jhiaxus succeeded in this mad scheme as well." The old robot, his chest smoking, growled as he maintained fire on the monstrosity. "How did he achieve the instantaneous increase in mass?"

"Not sure." Wolfang replied as he dove away from a stomp, tucking and rolling. "Rhinox explained it to me once, basically the merging of their sparks gives off an insane amount of energy, some of which is converted to matter."

"That human, Alberstein," Bonecrusher grumbled as he pushed the probe off of him and re-entered the fight.

"Albert Einstein." Wolfang corrected as he continued his strategy of firing and dodging.

"Whatever!" Bonecrusher growled. "He figured out the equation illustrating the concept. Granted, the fleshlings have only managed to get the matter-to-energy part working,"

"As evidenced by the high rad-count of this area." Wolfang added.

"But if organics with one vorn lifespans can figure out that much, it makes sense Jhiaxus would not only figure out how to do it in the other direction, but manage to implement it in a practical fashion."

"You mean weaponize it." Atrium snarled as he too was forced to jump away from the giant's attempted strike. "How do we stop it?"

"With the other guinea pigs Magmatron dug out!" Wolfang yelled in response. "We recruited them to our side, but one's like a thousand miles north of here, which is too far to be of much use, and the other two, well, they're stationed in Africa."

"What my furry little colleague is trying to say is that there is no stopping this thing." Bonecrusher grumbled before being backhanded by Tripredacus and slamming into another wall of rock.

"No!" Atrium yelled out, charging to intervene, but finding himself on the receiving end of a strike from Tripredacus as well. The giant claw came down on him, driving him into the ground and knocking him offline.

"Shit, this is bad!" Wolfang yelled, but had to take cover behind a boulder to avoid getting blasted by a wave of rocks Tripredacus tore out of the mountainous ground and flung his way.

"Good-bye Maximals. We'll send Cybertron your regards." Tripredacus announced before separating into its component parts. The three robots ran into the craft that Atrium had arrived in and sealed the door behind them.

Wolfang ran to the ship and started banging on the door to get in, but was unable to open it. After a few minutes he looked to his comrades. Both were unconscious, but Bonecrusher appeared to be less damaged, and therefore posed the potentially greater asset. The blue Maximal ran to his friend and began performing first aid in an attempt to wake him up. "Get up you smelly mound of beef!"

"Ughn…"

"We've got a few minutes before they figure out how to work that thing!" Wolfang barked as he started shaking his comrade. "I need you to open the damn door, so get up!"

"Ughn…OK, I'm up…" Bonecrusher grumbles as he slowly came back online. "Gimme a minute…"

"We don't have…" The sound of the engines powering up turned Wolfang's attention back to the ship, and the two Maximals could only watch as it lifted off into the air and headed skyward. "Shit." He turned back to Bonecrusher and started helping him up. "Come on, we need to get back to base."

"What about Abdicator?" Bonecrusher grumbled as he wobbly stood on his own.

"We'll need to carry him." Suddenly lights could be seen heading their way, and moments later voices could be heard shouting from beyond the rocks. "Damnit, humans!"

"Over here!" A human voice called out, and the faint glow of a distant flashlight rested on the remains of the probe.

"We've got to get out of here." Wolfang muttered.

"And Abdicator?"

Wolfang looked to the unconscious robot half-buried in the ground. "We leave him. We've got no choice."

The two Maximals shared a look of concern before transforming and disappearing into the night.

Torenia Pax

It was almost too much, being here. She hadn't returned since that terrifying, magical, glorious day, but when Roller had made his request, it was something she embraced with her entire spark. The fact is that she really didn't have any opportunity to take in any of the details of the cave; she had nearly walked past without noticing the pale green glow bouncing through the darkness, and upon entering she had flown into flurry of panicked action, desperately trying to figure out a way to keep the spark from expiring. "He, well, his spark, was right there." She pointed her light beam to the point on the cavern floor where she had first found the glowing green orb. "I was hopeless, there was no way for me to help him. And then, well, he just seemed to pull himself together. Chunks of ore tore free of the walls, the ground, the ceiling, and engulfed the spark. The rock getting pushed out," her beam moved a bit to show piles of the discarded rock pebbles and powder, "almost magically."

"Ignis Superious; they're so rare that their properties and abilities have never been quantified." Roller muttered as he knelt down and gently ran his fingers over the ground that had given rise to his brother's spark. "Thank you for taking me here."

Torenia smiled and ran her own fingers over his back and shoulders. "Thank you for suggesting it my sweet, sweet boy." She turned her lantern to take in more of the cavern. "I know you can't tell me what happened, but please know that I trust you and A-Three to have done what's best." She peered into the depths of the cave for a moment before turning back to Roller. "He is safe, isn't he?"

"He was out, but in perfect health the last time I saw him." Roller replied as he stood up. "A-Three didn't tell me where he was taking him, he said it would be best for everyone if nobody else knew." He met Torenia's gaze and tried to give her a reassuring look in the darkened cave. After a moment his optics casually shifted over to the ground several feet away where the light of her lantern had rested. "What's that?" He stepped forward and bent over to pick up a smooth jet black piece of metal partially buried in the rock. He pulled gently at it, causing it to snap, and raised the piece he had closer to his optics. "It's old, but smooth, almost polished looking. And there's a slight curve to it. I don't think this is naturally occurring."

Torenia leaned in, focusing her lantern's light onto the object. "I don't recognize that substance."

"Easy enough fix for that." Roller replied, reaching into the pack he had strapped magnetically to his upper back and pulling a small scanner from it. He held it before the substance and activated several scanning lasers. A moment later the lasers stopped and the device flashed a green light. Roller peered at the small screen. "And the verdict is….Corallium Furvus? What's corallium furvus?"

"It can't be." Torenia replied skeptically, leaning in to check the read-out for herself, but seeing the same words that Roller had read off. "It was more commonly called black coral; it's basically the remains of a species of long extinct marine invertebrates. Legend has it that the hotspots that gave rise to aquatic spark-based lifeforms almost always had reefs of this substance lined in or around them. It supposedly was a unique case of organic remains forming a pseudo-metal that was as durable and long-lived as much of our own, and it was believed that the material possessed properties that served as some sort of preservative for sentio metallico, or so the legends claimed. Low levels of organic energy or something that, I don't know, bathed the metallico and kept it viable in environments that weren't very conducive to the life-metal." She turned and peered at Roller. "There have always been methods of collecting, transporting or holding sentio metallico, but they're all so temporary; it goes inert within a few days of being removed from a non-conducive environment. The presence of black coral however, reportedly could make almost any environment hospitable for viable metallico to accumulate. That's why it was pretty much collected to extinction, and is likely why there are precious few spark-based fish left in our oceans and seas."

Roller looked down at the object, staring at it intently. "So…maybe…" he looked up at Torenia, "could this…" his optics darted back down at the substance, "could this have something to do with Orion?"

"Perhaps…" Torenia replied, also staring at the substance.

"Hold on." Roller made a few adjustments on the scanner and another series of lasers shot out to examine the substance, this time taking nearly a minute before ceasing its scans and returning with a result. "What? This can't be right."

"What is it?" Torenia pressed.

"According to the readout, this is likely a fragment from a larger vessel, and it has been in this cave for over twelve million years." Roller reported with skepticism.

"Twelve…MILLION years?" Torenia asked. "Not even in the farthest-fetched legends could black coral keep sentio metallico viable for that long."

Roller shrugged and whispered. "He's the Prime who was promised." He looked up and noted the odd look on Torenia's face. "Nothing. Just that if Orion's stubbornness is derived from that green spark of his, then reanimating long inert metallico isn't THAT impossible."

Torenia nodded and smiled. "True." She continued to gaze at the chip for a few moments more before speaking. "Whether one year ago or twelve million years ago, finding this would suggest that somebody intentionally relocated sentio metallico to this cave. A cave in an island where, prior to last year, no spark had ever emerged."

"Someone was hiding it." Roller added, his mind, like Torenia's, was racing trying to understand this development and what it could mean. "I definitely need to ask Alph…A-Three about this when he gets back."

"You think he might have read about something related to this?" Torenia asked.

"Hell, for all we know he could have been the one who put this vessel in the cave." Roller muttered, earning him a light slap on the shoulder from Torenia.

"Stop that," she smiled, "he's not that old." Roller gave her a loving smile in reply, but didn't get a chance to respond as a beeping emerged from both of their wrists. "Hmmm, news feed designated urgent. Wonder what's going on." They both exited the cave and tapped into the strongest communication signal they could access.

The masculine voice of the newscaster came through. "To repeat, multiple terrorist attacks have taken place all across Cybertron. Early estimates are that the dead will number in the low hundreds. Confirmed attacks have occurred in Hyperious, Centurion, Harmonex, Vos, Petrex, Protihex and even Cybertropolis itself. Reports are coming in from other, smaller cities as well. Unverified reports have suggested Autobot involvement. Stay tuned for further developments."

"Those bastards!" Roller snarled.

"What?" Torenia looked at him in shock. "You can't possibly believe that the Autobots were involved. How can you even think that?"

Roller looked away, almost ashamed before replying. "When we…took Orion, he wasn't alone."

"What?" Torenian questioned, but immediately realized. "Oh no Roller, you didn't."

"Look, we did what we had to do." Roller replied. "We told them he'd be safe, but we couldn't tell them anything beyond that. They didn't buy it, and we, well, we had to subdue them. The one called Jazz was actually a lot tougher than he looked, but we managed to put them down. I suppose from their perspective it looked like we were abducting Orion." The young Pax shrugged. "Well, we were abducting Orion. But that doesn't justify anything like this!"

"Don't jump to conclusions!" Torenia scolded. "I refuse to believe any group Orion vouched for could be a part of something like this."

Roller shook his head, gazing up at the sky as he tried to wrap his head around what was happening. "They're cells. They're independent groups loosely bound together, but they exist and act pretty much separately from one another so that if one cell gets pinched, they all won't come crashing down. It offers some degree of safety for the movement, but it also enables fringe elements to go and do their own thing. Orion could vouch for his group I suppose, but a few mavericks catch wind of a royal house kidnapping their new figurehead, and, well…" Roller looked down at the ground. "I don't want to believe it, but I can't discount the possibility."

"All those cities all at the same time?" Torenia questioned. "That's a lot of coordination and planning for a few loose cannons acting on their own."

Roller nodded, but still stared at the ground. "You're right. Which means they're being set up, or Orion's judgement is way off."

Detritus Lo-Gar

"Do you know what you've done?" The snarl was sent into the audience chamber one second before his body, but he stomped in and marched straight to the desk on the far end of the room, where he knew the Gar would be working.

"I was wondering when you would make an appearance, Detritus." Wreck Gar muttered.

"You must have known it would be very soon after hearing you've taken steps to kill us all!" The boxy, tan and powerful looking robot snapped before taking a seat on the other side of the desk. Wreck Gar finished typing into the data pad on the desk in front of him and finally looked up. "What were you thinking, to betray us in such a way?"

Wreck Gar let out a whispered chuckle and shrugged. "There has been no betrayal, my Lo-Gar, we have merely accepted a guest for whom Cybertron has become too dangerous."

"Whom?" Detritus growled. "By The Hand, you go from speaking the pidgin dialect of the idiots out there to sounding like an Iaconian polyhistor! Is that to fit in with those you've sold us out to? Have they given you a title and lands on the home world in payment for paving the way for their reoccupation of Junk?"

Wreck Gar slammed his fist hard on his desk. "There will be no reoccupation of Junk!" Gone were the attempts at good-natured civility. "Despite his name, Orion Pax is…, well, he's not of House Pax, not truly. He was born in the pool of no high house. And it is the Prime and other highborn that seek his death. He has allied himself with a group seeking an end to the system of nobility. He seeks equality for all in the eyes of the laws, the same as us."

"According to who? Him?" Detritus Lo-Gar snapped, not cowed by the Gar's burst of agitation. "His undoubtedly highborn benefactor who dropped him in our laps? I highly doubt a bunch of commoners struggling to end the caste system have access to faster than light propulsion."

"I believe the ship was not FTL capable, but had a wormhole generator." Wreck Gar replied, meeting sarcasm with sarcasm. "But you're probably right. He gave me a commoner name, but I'm pretty sure he was highborn."

Detritus glared at his leader with unrestrained anger. "You're telling me he lied to you, you knew he was lying to you, and still allowed him to plant his operative here?"

"Plant an operative?" Wreck Gar looked at Detritus with more than a little incredulity. "Why would Sentinel Prime bother with that? If he wanted to reclaim Junk, he wouldn't need an inside man. Due to energy rationing, our vast, planetary arsenal consists solely of melee weapons. I doubt he would need our axes sabotaged to over-run our defenses."

"Sentinel Prime?" Detritus Lo-Gar questioned.

"Right, apparently there've been some changes on the home world since we were last in contact with it." Wreck Gar explained. "Roughly a million years ago, Guardian Prime set out on a ship with his most trusted advisors. What he was up to is open to debate, but I'm fairly certain that one thing he would hope to accomplish would be to get his extended house in order, this little colony world of our included. He never got here, or returned home, or left any trace whatsoever, so obviously something went wrong. Sometime after his disappearance Zeta of House Decimus was named the new Prime. He served until about a year ago when he was murdered. Sentinel of House Honorum replaced him as Prime."

"I remember the name Zeta Decimus, but I've never heard of Sentinel Honorum." Detritus muttered as he considered these things.

"I would assume he was birthed sometime after our uprising and the cutting of contact with Cybertron, three million years ago." Wreck Gar added, but leaned forward and continued in a stern, almost threatening voice. "Our guest, Orion, is no agent of Sentinel Prime, and he is no threat to us. He will be treated well, and no harm will befall him. Is that understood?"

Detritus met the glare, and slowly rose back to his feet. "You are my Gar, you led us out of captivity and servitude and showed us we were every bit as good as those that we toppled. Because of that I will obey you, despite disagreeing with your choice to take this non-royal with a royal name in. But should he ever pose any threat to our people, or if you give me further reason to question your judgment, well, my loyalties are firstly to the citizens of Junk, then to you."

"If Orion Pax is a threat to our people, I will kill him myself." Wreck Gar replied as he too stood up. "I am pleased to hear of your loyalties to the people. Some of your comments in recent vorns have given me the impression you think yourself above them. There is no nobility here. We serve the people, we guide the people; we do not rule them. I had feared that you had forgotten that." Wreck Gar's intense gaze was broken as something behind Detritus caught his attention. "Orion, please, come in. There is someone I want you to meet."

Detritus refused to turn and look at the off-worlder creating the light footsteps coming toward them. Based on the sound of the footsteps, he was likely pretty small, despite the initial reports he'd heard. A moment later their 'guest' was standing next to him, and despite the sound of him walking, he stood three feet taller than Detritus and was significantly broader at the shoulders. Detritus looked him up and down in disgust; large, solid, powerful-looking but light on his feet. He was clearly a warrior, and there was no doubt that he was on a mission to infiltrate their colony and facilitate an invasion. "Hello, I am Orion Pax. It's a pleasure to meet you." The shiny stranger held out his blue hand in a gesture of greeting. Detritus refused to accept it and turned back to glare at Wreck Gar.

Wreck Gar hit him with an angry glare as well, but turned to Orion and smiled. "Detritus is one of my Lo-Gars, that's something like a regional governor. And like the rest of the planet, he's very suspicious of off-worlders, especially Cybertronians with royal names."

"I understand, and hope that in time I earn your trust." Orion once again spoke directly to Detritus, and once again his words were ignored.

"Have you had a chance to settle in at all?" Wreck Gar continued speaking to the newcomer.

"I have, Wreck Gar." Orion replied respectfully. "I appreciate your hospitality."

"How did you enjoy our swill?" Detritus snarled, a bit of mocking mirth in his voice. If anything could break the cover of this highborn dandy, it would be their foul fuel flowing into his pretty, untainted fuel tank.

"It took a little getting used to, but I managed to keep it down." Orion replied with a smile. "It did seem to leave me sated, so I can't complain."

Wreck Gar met the smile before turning to his Lo-Gar. Detritus presented a heated look. "Keep the off-worlder under careful watch. He is not to be trusted." The Lo-Gar turned and marched out of the audience chamber.

Megatron

He had run through the scenario countless times in his head prior to giving the go-ahead. He'd considered every eventuality, evaluated the risks, the rewards, and had proceeded with this, their most risky endeavor to date. He was not having second thoughts, and he definitely wasn't having regrets, but ideally he'd have waited a bit more, allowed him to grow and further place his assets to a greater extent. But Rabattus was growing impatient, and for the time being it served their purposes to allow him to think he was pulling the strings.

"You fear we weren't ready to take this step." The harmonic voice cut through the room.

Megatron looked up across the table they were seated at in the vast room to Soundwave, the only other individual present. "I hope you're not prying into my mind."

Soundwave chuckled, a sound that Megatron believed no one other than he had ever heard. "I don't require my abilities to realize that."

Megatron smiled and shrugged. "It's not fear. But yes, I do wonder if we acted too soon."

"You had not choice in the matter." Soundwave replied. "Rabattus Decimus expected the acts of terrorism to have already occurred. Further delay would only have infuriated him, potentially disrupting the resources he's been supplying us with, and possibly even caused him to suspect our true motivations."

Megatron's smile broadened. "Now I really suspect you're reading my mind."

Soundwave peered intently at Megatron. "I assure you, Lord Megatron, yours is the only mind that is completely safe from my prying."

Megatron nodded, no indication of gratitude, more an acknowledgment that the response provided was acceptable; the ONLY acceptable response. "Well, at least…" a buzzing from the communications console built into the center of the table interrupted him, and he smiled at Soundwave, who stood up and walked around, taking a seat next to the chrome gladiator before reaching forward and pushing a button to answer the call.

A holographic image of the shoulders and head of Rabattus Decimus appeared, a smile on his face. "Greetings, my friends. The Senate is abuzz with discussions about these horrific Autobot terror attacks. Of course denials have been sent to media outlets from various reported Autobot cells, but with such a loosely knit organizational structure, can the right hand truly know what the left hand has done?" He laughed. "The range, scope and destruction is far more ambitious than I had planned, but the high body count, including several members of lower nobility, has really whipped most sectors of the planet into a rage against the Autobots. Well done my friends. It's good to see the munitions and other resources I've provided to you have gone to good use."

Megatron smiled and bowed his head in gratitude, only momentarily catching a glimpse of the vast stockpiles of weaponry beyond the holographic image in the expanse of the warehouse they were in; weaponry that Rabattus was assuming had been used instead of the cheap but effective homemade ordinance that Megatron's operatives really used. "They have, my lord, and I plan to use more to even greater effect in the weeks, months and perhaps even years to come. I will ensure that the focus of the entire planet remains on these misguided Autobot upstarts."

Rabattus grinned but fixed Megatron with an inquisitive stare. "No sympathies for your fellow commoners, mighty Megatron?"

Megatron chuckled. "I've been led to believe that my status as a commoner might be a temporary thing."

Rabattus laughed at the comment. "You're planning on holding me to that, is that it? Well yes Megatron, you will certainly be rewarded with wealth and social enhancement, but with you being a Polyhexian, I must give Macht the opportunity to do that first."

"Of course my lord." Megatron bowed his head lightly. "But no, I bear no sympathies for the Autobots."

"Excellent." The dark senator nodded. "I just wanted to congratulate the two of you on a job well done. Keep up the good work, but limit the caliber of victim to commoners and low nobles."

"Sir," Megatron questioned, "I have no interest in striking the nobility, but…the Autobots do. It might raise questions if an organization fighting for the rights of commoners is seen to only be killing commoners."

Rabattus nodded. "I hate to say it, but you're right. Fine, you may consider plans that could cause the deaths and injuries of high nobility, but you must run the names by me first and get my approval."

"Of course my lord." Megatron replied.

"Well then, continue, and let Soundwave know what materials you'll need." With that Rabattus switched off the signal and disappeared, leaving the two occupants of the vast warehouse with a view of the rows upon rows of weapons.

"I'll have a shopping list to you shortly." They both chuckled at Megatron's comment.

"Might I suggest another warehouse be added to that list?" Soundwave added.

Megatron smiled broadly as he nodded. "Not a bad idea, though I plan on beginning the distribution of our resources shortly. So we'll probably need several smaller, but well-placed secure facilities throughout the planet."

Alpha Trion

Oblivion was finally giving way, but unfortunately it was giving way to intense pain. Darkness was still present, but that was merely a choice at this point, his optics were one of the few things that seemed not to be damaged. But activated optics were detectable, so he paused and decided to take in as much as he could with his other senses before giving any indication that he was conscious. He was heavily damaged, but nothing life-threatening. His internal repair systems were already getting things in order. He could feel metal covering his arms legs and much of his torso, likely some sort of binding to keep him confined. From his auditory senses, which like his optics were working as well, he could hear the bustle of activity around him, including conversations conducted in an alien language. He could also detect various radio frequencies buzzing around him, an archaic but reasonably effective method of conveying audio, and easy enough for him to tap into. Within minutes he had managed to piece together a rough understanding of this language called English, apparently one of many spoken and written on this planet, and was now eavesdropping on those around him.

"If I weren't looking at it, I wouldn't be believing it." One of the voices said.

"Where do you think the cockpit is?" Another one asked.

"Hard to pinpoint without knowing the size and shape of the alien, but if I had to guess, I'd say the chest." A third voice said. "Offers the most room and the most protection."

"I'd bet there is no cockpit." The first voice said. "Probably remote control."

"Could be programmed to react and make decisions of its own." The third voice posed.

"Like some sort of…artificial intelligence or something?" A fourth voice said, one that seemed to be attached to a series of footsteps that had been growing louder, but not that loud, for the last couple seconds.

Based on the locations of where the voices were coming from and the lightness of the footsteps, Alpha Trion…hmmm, it had been a very long time since he had thought of himself by that name, but based on these things he estimated the natives to be less than a third his height and a tiny fraction of his mass. Sensing no point in playing at being unconscious anymore, Alpha Trion activated his optics and straightened his head, taking in his surroundings. He ignored the gasps and frightened starts of the humans and peered down at his battered frame, currently enclosed in a metal case. It was primitive, but the thickness and presses used to clamp him in were enough to keep him their prisoner. He looked around and found himself in a hangar, several primitive aircraft were on the far side of it, and all the doors were sealed shut. Dozens of soldiers armed with what he assumed were rifles were stationed all around the hangar, and standing in front of him were four men, two in long white coats and two in ornate tan clothing with various pins on their chests and wearing some sort of hats; likely attire for high ranking military leaders. "Greetings humans. I pose you and your planet no harm."

One of the military leaders, a man with light skin color, dark but whitening hair on his head and even more whitened hair over his upper lip, stepped forward. "That's good to hear, but you'll understand our skepticism, and our precautions despite your assurances."

"Of course." Alpha Trion replied.

"My name is General Leslie Richard Groves, and I'm here to find out why you're here." The human general stated. "I'm assuming it has something to do with the weapon we've been testing near here and unleashed in Japan a few weeks ago."

Alpha Trion chuckled. "My name is Alpha Trion, and while this may be difficult for you to believe, I am not a vessel, nor am I remote controlled, and my intelligence is not artificial. I am a living being. And perhaps even harder for you to believe, my being here has nothing to do with your advance into atomic weaponry." He paused for a moment. "Well, the location of my arrival on your planet was selected in hopes that the radiation levels from your testing would mask any that my craft would have brought with it."

General Groves nodded. "Maybe, but again, you'll need to understand that we're skeptical. You'll be treated well, but make no mistake, you are our prisoner, and you will be interrogated to ascertain the threat, if any, those who sent you pose us."


	12. Chapter 12

Prowl

He marched down the hallway intently, his footsteps rhythmically bouncing off the walls, enhancing the sense of purpose and intensity that his face, posture and pace were already putting on display for all that crossed his path. Those that crossed his path were primarily the imposing Primal Guard, the gold stripes identifying them as such stretched across their broad, heavily armored and press-enhanced chests, and various of Sentinel's many assistants, all femme, all beautiful, and very few of any real use. Prowl rounded the final corner of the maze making up the Capital Spire's lower levels on his way to his destination; the Prime's personal gymnasium, ignoring the mocking stares of those he passed. Only a few years back he had been one of the most respected individuals on the planet, but after a lack of progress in taking down the Autobots, a complete failure in tracking down the planet's most wanted fugitive, and the development of a rift between he and Sentinel that was obvious to anyone who came into contact with them, respectful bows and nods had turned to sniggering and snide whispered remarks that were growing louder and bolder with each passing day. Prowl pushed through the large metal double doors and looked past the vast array of training dummies and strike pads over to the center of the central training pit to see Sentinel Prime battering three martial arts experts. Off to the side was the grotesque mystic who had brought them, a shadowy Urayan named Bludgeon that Prowl trusted about as much as he trusted Senator Rabattus and the other sycophants that Prime had chosen to surround himself with in recent years. This master of an ancient and largely unknown martial art was a relatively new addition to Prime's entourage, but was already more trusted and influential to the Prime than Prowl had come to be. Prowl knew that power frequently corrupted good bots, but he expected better of his friend.

Though to be fair, he couldn't fault Prime's choice in enlisting this Bludgeon in regards to hand to hand combat training, the warrior truly was the best Prowl had ever seen. He wasn't the biggest, strongest or fastest of fighters, but he had methods that allowed him to overcome the biggest, strongest and fastest of opponents, and was the first instructor to have noticeably improved upon Sentinel's vast combat skills; and in the five years since his public humiliation at the hands of a one year old un-enhanced and moderately trained Orion Pax, Prime had gone through many instructors. He had become obsessed with finding and defeating the adopted noble-turned Autobot outlaw in hopes of proving…something. Prowl genuinely wished it were dismissible, something to categorize as just a silly, ridiculous pissing contest, but he knew the damage done by being tossed aside by Orion Pax for all the world to see. He was shown to be weak, his authority was no longer absolute. He could be opposed, and every day that Orion Pax escaped his justice only reaffirmed that.

Uncovering Autobot cells, destroying their networks and support base, doing everything they could to unravel their network of advocates of peaceful insurrection had been virtually the sole focus of Sentinel Prime's government for the last half decade. And nobody could question that. The Autobots had been waging a war of terror on civilian, noble, law enforcement and even the occasional lightly-guarded military targets for five years now. That the Autobots vehemently denied involvement in every one of the now 328 attacks, and that the vast majority of the evidence seemed to support their denials, meant nothing to the government, the media and the public at large. Their brief moment as Cybertron's sweethearts following Orion Pax's rescue of the condemned Autobot prisoners ended a few days later when multiple cities throughout the planet experienced deadly attacks. Since then, they've been villains hunted as such.

But they were innocent. Prowl knew it, and was convinced that even Prime knew it deep down, but his hatred for the fugitive Pax was too great for him to acknowledge that fact, or if not fact, that likelihood. He channeled overwhelming resources to bringing the commoner movement down, but ultimately Prowl realized that it was all just to expose and capture Orion Pax. Despite five years of intense searching and interrogations that even the strong-gutted Prowl was made queasy by, there had been no whisper of the fugitive. Prime was convinced that the Autobots were keeping the youngster very well hidden, but Prowl knew Pax, and hiding just wasn't something he could see him doing. In fact, the Orion Pax that Prowl had known, that Prowl had had a hand in training, would have made it a priority to track down the true culprits and put an end to the terrorist attacks himself. Or he'd have at least tried to, and likely would have been killed in such an attempt. Prowl had tried to suggest the possibility that the youngster had been killed to Sentinel Prime on a few occasions, but every time the possibility was scoffed at. The leader of Cybertron was absolutely convinced Pax was out there, and whether guilty of the carnage that had gripped the planet for the last half decade or not, he was going to be captured and ground to shavings at the hands of the vengeful Prime.

Prowl watched as a speeding back-fist shattered the faceplate of the only sparring partner left standing, and sent that partner collapsing to the ground. The Urayan instructor laughed loudly in approval, stepping into the pit, his face, altered to mimic the features of a standard endo-skeletal skull, stretched wide in a hideous smile. "Well done, your grace! You lacked some of the finesse and finery I've been trying to drill into you, but with raw power such as yours, I suppose straight-forward brutality is more than effective."

"Get me your six next-best students." Prime chuckled. "I'm feeling ornery today."

"Your grace?" Prowl called out. "Might I have a moment before you continue with your exercises?" The slow twist of the head revealed the heated glare that had come to be the standard greeting Prime presented his Chief of Security. "I assure you, it's important."

"Bludgeon," Prime called out as he marched toward Prowl, "have your students ready for me when I get back."

"Of course, your grace." Bludgeon bowed and grinned at the departing leader.

"What is it, Prowl?" The massive royal grumbled as they walked out of the gym and into the hallway.

"In here sir." Prowl directed Prime into a small meeting room. "I've received a data slug from an asset in the Autobot camp. It's best if you read the report for yourself."

"Really?" Sentinel Prime snapped. "I thought the only reason I still had you around was for you to sift through the minutia and give me the 'so what'. Yet here I am, being asked to read a status report from one of your grunts."

"Your grace, it's the agent built with the secondary robot mode." Prowl replied.

"Oh, him." Sentinel replied, a slight bit of excitement in his voice. "Has he finally given us a high value target?"

"Negative sir." Prowl replied. "This is not good news." With that Prowl plugged the slug into an input on the wall, activating a large screen in the upper center of the wall. A moment later a text message in large letters appeared.

'Prowl,

Don't even know why I'm bothering to do this; courtesy I guess. Respect for a mentor plays in as well, though frankly, that respect has taken a lot of hits over the last few years. We both know the truth. Whoever is conducting this guerrilla warfare against us, it isn't the Autobots. The most irritating part is, you know that, yet you're still enlisting me and however many other agents to take them down for this. Prime doesn't listen to reason; that's not just me saying it. It's not just the Autobots. Everyone who knows him knows that his entire focus is taking down the Autobots. Actually, that's only partially true. His primary focus is revenge against Orion Pax; taking down the Autobots is next after that. And guess what – the public at large has started taking note of it as well. He's irrational, he's dangerous, and he's ignoring actual threats to keep tormenting a group who is no physical threat to anyone, and who, quite frankly, is right. So sir, please consider my resignation tendered.

Unfortunately, there is more than just a resignation at play here. I've revealed myself to the Autobots, have pledged to join them, and despite my initial subterfuge, they've agreed to accept me. I'm not going to lie, I'm pretty sure they looked past me being a security agent only because they're…we're pretty hard up for recruits. So while it pains me to say, we're now enemies. But in the spirit of the friendship we once had, I will give you one tip. If you're truly interested in locating Orion Pax, I suggest you find out where House Pax buries the bodies of those they kill. You're old constable friend in Polarus might know a thing or two about that. Take care of yourself, and don't let yourself be put in a position where Sentinel Prime's madness can get you killed.

Punch'

Prime quietly read the message a second time before turning his head over and down toward Prowl. "What are you telling your agents that gives them the idea that I'm irrational? That I'm a threat to you and to them?"

"That doesn't come from me!" Prowl snapped. "Pardon my tone sir, but I have portrayed you in the most respectful, reverent light I can muster. But even you can't be deaf to the whispers. Hell, not whispers, the press has openly questioned many of your decisions the last few years."

"You dare raise your voice to me?" Sentinel Prime snarled.

"Yes." Prowl replied. "Every other means I've used to convey this message to you has gone ignored, and now I've lost my best agent because of it. So yes, I've raised my voice to you, my Prime, because if this doesn't get your attention, then I'm all out of ideas. And before you infer some sort of conspiracy shared between my officer and me regarding the veracity of the accusations against the Autobots, I'd like to point out that none of that was kept from you. I have long since expressed doubt about their guilt. I feel they have been framed, and continue to be framed. The evidence supports this, yet you have no desire to entertain any of it. And worst of all, I believe I have a general idea as to who the guilty party is, I have evidence supporting this belief, and again, that goes ignored because it doesn't fit the narrative that best serves your personal desires. Which means that we're acting contrary to how the evidence would have us act and likely allowing those perpetrating these acts to continue perpetrating these acts, causing the deaths of thousands more than have already died at their hands!"

"Oh enough of your gladiatorial circuit conspiracy theory!" Prime growled.

"The evidence supports the theory, sir!" Prowl snapped.

"Nonsense. I know it's illegal, and that they've been evading you for years, but frankly they're small fish, and the commoners seem to like the games." Sentinel Prime replied dismissively. "I thought you wanted me to give the commoners what they want more often."

"I think you should give the commoners what they need, not necessarily what they want. They need better education and opportunities, this blood sport is merely a distraction."

"It keeps them subdued and compliant, which is all I really want." Sentinel Prime grinned. "Those that aren't lulled by religion focus on the sport, the gambling, or both."

"I prefer Senator Rabattus's words to come out of his mouth, not yours." Prowl grumbled defiantly.

"Ah, this again." Prime scoffed. "Rabattus is not influencing me in regard to the underground fights, we just happen to agree."

"You're the one that opened the investigations into them, or have you forgotten?"

"That was when I was merely the head of planetary security, which is the reason I've been as patient with you as I have been, given that this is the scope you now look through." Prime replied tersely. "But the Prime has to look at a much broader picture, one impacted by far more factors. I see these fights, I acknowledge they're technically illegal, but ultimately the greater good is served if we turn a blind optic from time to time."

"And if members, possibly even organizers of this circuit are the ones responsible for the terrorist acts?" Prowl pressed.

"Enough!" Prime snapped in exasperation. "They're not, I've told you that they're not, I'm telling you again that they're not! The Autobots are responsible for the carnage and the murder of our citizens! I command that you accept that fact right now and be done with it!"

Prowl locked optics with his leader for nearly a minute before finally replying. "I'm sorry your grace, but I cannot. I will not continue to push forward with what I know to be, at best, an inaccuracy, or at worst, a flat out lie."

Prime stared deeply into Prowl's optics for several moments, considering deeply whatever he was considering, before finally addressing his Chief of Security. "Prowl, consider yourself dismissed. You have a half hour to gather your belongings. At the end of that half hour your security clearance for this building and all other government facilities will be revoked, and if you're still here you'll be arrested for trespassing."

Prowl nodded. "Well then, I'd better not waste any time." The midsized white and black robot walked past Sentinel Prime and toward the door.

"Prowl," Sentinel muttered to the unemployed robot before he reached the door, causing him to stop, "your lands and title have been stripped as well."

Prowl remained looking forward, but chuckled. "Fine. Having them was nothing more than an added complication." With that he left.

Grimlock

Trinkets, baubles and do-dads meant nothing to him. He would place the value of two shits out of an anthracoth's wide fleshy ass as equal to the multitude of shiny trophies arrayed on the wall in front of him. Correction, the shits could fertilize the ground to aid in the growth of plants, which could be consumed by animals; the medals, plaques, trophies and other representations of perceived greatness that had been brought by the gladiators and put on display on this wall-length shelf could do none of that. Not that Grimlock placed much value in the organic life of his world, but their various colors, movements and characteristics made the landscapes more interesting to look upon, which was more than simply the taking up of space, being an optic-sore and providing added arrogance for those who already had that trait in abundance. Ogrus Onyx had tried to heap dozens of these items at his feet early on in his fight career, and as his true prowess, and therefore value, came to be undeniable, a title and lands were offered as well. Grimlock laughed at the trinkets, and dismissively waved off the title and lands. Trinkets and titles were useless, and lands, well, the massive gladiator had yet to come across any that he intended to live upon long term; the paltry specs of unappealing metal, rock and dirt in the badlands of central Nyon that were offered certainly didn't change that opinion. Even the praise that Ogrus initially tried to provide the gladiator was disrespectfully brushed aside. 'Saurus Onyx reborn', 'Most powerful warrior in millions of years', 'More powerful than Galvatron', and other platitudinous nonsense. True, he was certainly more powerful than Galvatron or any other Cybertronian to ever live, but a comparison to Deathsaurus was not something he would consider a compliment. True, it was meant in regards to physical power, and on that front he could see where it would be considered praise by most, but Grimlock wasn't to be compared to overrated historical or mythological figures; he was unique, and the planet had never produced anything like him before or since.

The gray and gold brute walked away from the assembled trophies, briefly glancing at the equally pointless religious displays of the two primary religions affixed to the opposite wall for those weaklings requiring the fortitude provided by religious beliefs to walk out into combat, and maneuvered around the rest of the empty locker room, his fingers flexing open and shut in anticipation. It had been a long time since he had been nervous; to the point where he couldn't be sure that this feeling tickling him was in fact nervousness. He had faced over three hundred opponents in the pits in his time, more than any other fighter still living, and none of them had caused him to be nervous. True, most fighters had more bouts than him, Ogrus wanted to keep him from being physically or psychologically worn down, or his invincibility to adversely impact the circuit as a whole, but his bouts almost always involved multiple opponents, thus racking up his victim count. But not tonight's bout. Tonight he faced only one opponent, it was a fight five and a half years in the making. The two greatest gladiators on the planet, both undefeated, demands for their match having reached a fevered pitch years before, but their respective lieges continuously stoked the fires of a potential match, drumming up the fervor until they felt the maximum financial benefit could be gained. That time had apparently finally come.

Grimlock paced in the locker room, waiting for the moment he'd be called to the arena to face off against the only warrior to ever be considered as a legitimate threat to the monstrous Nyonian. Megatron had made a name for himself in his first bout over five and a half years before, and since then had obliterated everyone to face off against him. Even the crimelord-turned-gladiator Overlord had fallen to Megatron, though everyone, including Megatron himself, admitted that the slightest change could have caused the bout to have gone against him. Both combatants had required hospitalization and weeks of downtime. Grimlock had watched the match several times, and even his monumental arrogance could not prevent him from acknowledging the phenomenal power at the disposal of both of those warriors. Overlord was enormous, one of the few beings on the planet that was not only larger than Grimlock, but towered over him. That in and of itself meant little, the northern lummox Lugnut equaled the Overlord in terms of size, and Grimlock had beaten him to near death with little difficulty the two occasions that they had faced one another. But Overlord didn't move like Lugnut. Overlord moved like Megatron; he moved like Grimlock; he moved like a middleweight. A middleweight's speed in a thirty-six foot hulking frame with power that even Grimlock had to admit at least matched his own. And he was an exceptionally skilled fighter, and his durability was such that words like impervious and indestructible and unstoppable were thrown around liberally whenever discussions involved the Overlord. And Megatron bested him.

Grimlock had seen Megatron fight many times, and as magnificent as Overlord was, he had not been surprised when the giant had fallen to the Tarnian. Grimlock could beat Megatron, but there was no question that Megatron could beat Grimlock should he leave the slightest opening or perform at anything less than his absolute best. This truly was a contest to determine the most powerful warrior on the planet, and Grimlock looked forward to the unprecedented challenge.

"Grimlock?"

The massive gladiator turned at the familiar voice of Swoop and looked upon the lean but powerful form of his teammate. The long, slender wings of his raptosaur mode stretched out from the back of his robot form. He was tall, but his frame frequently led opponents to underestimate his strength, at least early on they made that mistake. He possessed a strength that went well beyond the 'wiry' strength sometimes seen in skinny fighters. Pound for pound he was one of the strongest warriors that Grimlock had come across, barring of course the likes of himself, Megatron, and Overlord, whom he was all but certain of having a natural advantage over the rest of the populace in addition to their added enhancements. Swoop of course lacked the sheer number of pounds possessed by most warriors they faced, which made it good that he had speed and reflexes that put him beyond anyone in the size classes they typically competed in. He was very bright as well, Grimlock listened to few, but Swoop was perhaps the only being he would listen to with objections to his plans or decisions. And unlike the other members of his team, he was social. On more than one occasion that ability to create rapport with others outside their little group had gotten them information on fighters or of Lord Onyx's plans for them. Not that that information was ever truly essential, but it was always nice to know things ahead of time. "What is it?"

"We need to talk." Grimlock noticed the look on his comrade's face and realized that this wasn't a typical chit chat or the relaying of gossip, he was genuinely troubled. "I overheard those two featherweight jackasses Rumble and Frenzy boasting about having blown up the central marketplace in Simfur last week."

Grimlock's long optic flared enough to give a slight and momentary ruby glow over the rest of his face. "What? That's impossible."

"I know what I heard."

"The Autobots destroyed the market." Grimlock grumbled angrily. "It was the Autobots that did that, that caused…that."

"Yeah," Swoop paused before continuing, "they were joking about pinning it the Autobots. And I got the impression that this wasn't a lone occurrence."

Grimlock pondered the words silently, glaring at the dull metal floor for several moments. He had known many of those that had died in the previous week's attacks, some of them were his earliest acquaintances. One casualty in particular had affected Grimlock. Slither had come into Grimlock's life in his third or fourth day of existence, and while not friendly, had provided Grimlock with his first job, his first opportunity to not exist solely due to the charity of others, which was a scarce commodity on the mean streets of Simfur. Even as a protoform, Grimlock possessed astounding strength, but instead of selling him off to the Onyx mines, Slither taught him to keep his uniqueness under wraps. Of course, his great size and bulk was too much to hide from the vassals of House Onyx, who eventually took notice and had him placed where he could do the most good for their liege lords. It would be a few more years before Grimlock fully grasped the power and value he possessed, and that defying these high-born bastards, at least to a certain extent, was an option for him. He had come across Slither several times since, and while it had been over a century since he had even thought of him, the scrawny merchant's murder had hit the gladiator hard for some reason. "Where are they?"

The two featherweight gladiators were found in the arena bar. In the last few years the government had turned a blind optic to the fight circuit, and the days of the disposable arenas, at least in Polyhex and other southern emirates, was a thing of the past. The Jugatus Coliseum, built and named in honor of the previous emir of Polyhex by his successor and likely murderer Militus Macht, was the second largest arena in all of Polyhex, about one thousand miles west and a little south of the Kaonian outskirts, built in the badlands that stretched across the narrow border between Polyhex and Nyon. It was a grand facility, which at first glance provided an indication of great respect for his predecessor, but its location in this charred and desolate region made it clear the true regard Militus held for Jugatus. But for this particular event, it was by far the most viable and nearly ideal venue. Just a few hundred miles from the border of Nyon, far enough from any major Polyhexian urban centers so that the crowd mix would be nearly equal, not that their target spectator ever lacked the resources to travel, well-equipped with minimal mileage, comfortable seating for over twenty thousand attendees of wide ranging sizes and shapes, six fully equipped locker rooms and med centers, and at least twenty pubs, including the dimly lit, yet somehow shiny room Swoop was leading him into now.

Swoop led Grimlock through the thinning crowd, most having left to take their seats, the intermission between the previous fight and the upcoming main event was almost over, and nobody wanted to miss what likely would be the greatest gladiatorial battle in history. Sure, there would likely be a re-match, and should the need arise, a rubber match, and more rematches every few decades to provide their liege lords payouts, but it was the first battle between Grimlock and Megatron that would go down in history, and none of these rich twats wanted to miss a second of it. They'd be bragging at parties of having been here and seen this for the remainder of their lives; in most cases it would be the only remotely interesting thing that would ever come out of their audio processors. Most of those left in the bar were high lords with their own easily accessible skyboxes, which had their own bars stocked with high-grade engex but they enjoyed socializing, others confident they could get to their seats before the fight commenced, several gladiators who too were confident of getting to their viewing area in time, and several inebriated souls who had imbibed too much engex and were barely aware of what was going on. The two gladiators they sought were on the far end of the dark bar, short and average of build, but exuding a sense of power nonetheless. Part of that came from the fact that they genuinely punched above their weight class, but the majority of it came from a mostly unjustified sense of arrogance. They were nearly identical, apparently spawned a few feet apart from one another in the same central Praxusian hotspot, both bearing black torsos, one of them with red limbs and accents, the other with blue limbs and accents. Grimlock wasn't sure which was Rumble and which was Frenzy; he'd never cared enough to bother finding out, and even if he had, it was unlikely he'd have bothered to remember. Frankly, it didn't matter.

He marched intently toward the two small robots, each between eight and nine feet tall, more than twenty feet shorter than Grimlock, the one with the red limbs finally noticing him and displaying a look of surprise. "What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't ya' be marchin' toward the pit about now?"

Grimlock grabbed his shoulder and the shoulder of the just turning 'blue' robot, hoisted them into the air and slamming them against the metal wall, causing various hanging pictures to shake and every remaining conscious optic in the bar to turn and look. "Tell me of the Simfur marketplace!"

"What?" Red mumbled.

"Don't know what yer talkin' about." Blue sputtered unconvincingly, and less fearful than Grimlock had expected him to be. In fact, neither seemed as scared as they should have been. As tough as they may have thought themselves to be, even that exaggerated self-assessment would have fallen far short of being able to prevent Grimlock from imposing his will and inflicting any measure of torture upon them that he could imagine.

"Now let us go, you saurian piece of shit!" Red snarled.

"Slaggin' Nyonian beast!" Blue growled.

"You wound me, Frenzy." The voice slithering from behind Grimlock and Swoop, one quietly, calmly, yet menacingly flowing out of the shadows near the entranceway, turned the optics of the pinned robots away from their oppressor, and elicited a smile on both their faces.

"Aw Ravage, I wasn't talking about you." Blue…Frenzy replied mirthfully.

"Yeah, you're a slaggin' Praxusian beast." Red…Rumble quipped.

Grimlock slowly turned his head to gaze upon the uninvited quadruped. They say that one in one hundred thousand feralitons possess heightened, almost humanoid intellects; and of those, one percent possess intellects that are unquestionably at least the equal of baseline Cybertronians. There was a line, a very blurry, ill-defined line that seemed almost arbitrary on deciding which side of it certain cases belonged, but it primarily boiled down to species composition of particular hotspots and how quickly humanoid-level intelligence developed in the non-humanoid form. This was the primary rationale for the categorizing the likes of Arlon Pax and other misshapen sentients as baseline Cybertronians, while creatures like this Ravage were considered fully sentient feralitons. If commoners thought they had it bad, all they need do was consider the lot of a fully sentient feraliton to make them reevaluate their fortune. These creatures were slaves, pets, prey for game hunters, many possessing higher intellects than their masters and killers. Many chose to either keep their gift secret or disengage themselves from civilization and live amongst their dim, feral cousins.

This particular feraliton had somehow found a place as a confidant of a member of House Torrent; Grimlock had witnessed them together watching several fighting tournaments in the last couple years, and got the impression that this Ravage was more than just a pet to the big blue royal prick. "Can I help you with something, fangs?" Grimlock grumbled to the feline form.

"Apt name for either one of us, gladiator." The four legged creature seemed to glide toward them, its movements so fluid and darkness so perfectly camouflaging with the various shadows around him that they could barely see the movement of its legs. "It would seem to me that your business is down in the arena with Megatron, not in a pub with these two."

"You know nothing of my business, feraliton." Grimlock growled.

"What issue do you have with these two?" The feline asked with a seemingly melodic hiss.

"Let's just say that I overheard them mentioning that they did something." Swoop chimed in as he crossed his arms and glared down at the cat.

Ravage sized up the winged warrior with a quick gaze before turning back to Grimlock. "If drinking too much, petty theft or vandalism, brawling, or noise ordinance violations are what your friend heard they did, then yes, your business is with them. If it's anything more ambitious than that," the feline stepped closer and narrowed his optic slits, "then as I said, your business is with Megatron."

Grimlock held Ravage's gaze for nearly a full minute as he considered the implications of what was just said. He then turned back to the two small humanoids, still pinned against the wall, their feet dangling a dozen feet over the floor. "You're a part of Megatron's great deception?"

"Go ask him yourself, you slag-eating twat." Blue snarled through a grin.

"And take your winged conjux with you." Red followed through a matching grin.

Grimlock stared at them for a few more tense seconds before rearing back, lifting them up and slamming them down into the floor. "I'm not done with you two!" He turned, regarded Ravage for a moment, but walked passed him and left the pub as he heard Megatron being announced in the arena. A second later the crowd erupted, as it always did when Megatron emerged from the tunnel and into the fighting pit prior to a match. Grimlock's seniority giving him the honor of emerging second, but the delay of him getting down to the sub-level and to the tunnel he would emerge from would likely be too long to just attribute to a long build up to increase tension and anticipation; the length of his absence would be noted and discussed. Of course, Grimlock didn't give a shit about any of that. He didn't even care about the fight; oh, he'd be trading fists with Megatron, he was sure of that, but the crowd, their unbeaten streaks, their winnings, their glory, none of it meant anything to him at this moment.

He'd been swayed years before by Megatron's talk of an underground movement, of a secret society devoted to changing the world so that it rewarded those that were truly great, and not the noble birthright fops that ran the planet and garnered the majority of the resources, rights and privileges. But early on Megatron seemed to distance himself from Grimlock, perhaps the conversations they'd had that seemed to illustrate some of their differences and how far they would be willing to go had put the Tarnian off to the Nyonian, or perhaps Megatron's ambitions required more time and effort than the young gladiator was willing to devote. Whatever the case, Grimlock had ceased to be a part of Megatron's schemes, an eventuality that Grimlock honestly didn't mind. Grimlock was amenable to the dream, but he knew going in that those involved would likely peter out. He had assumed that had been the case, but what he had just heard in the bar made it seem the exact opposite was true.

He heard his name being announced to the excited crowd as he reached the lower levels, they had waited for him as long as they could apparently, but they could stall no longer. The announcement had been meant as a fire under his ass, but in reality all it did was annoy him. He finally turned the corner into the dark tunnel, the bright light of the opposite opening into the pit a rapidly growing pinpoint through the black. He finally emerged, the portion of the crowd from Nyon, roughly forty percent by his estimation, exploded with sound and movement. Normally he would stop midway between the tunnel and the center of the giant pit to await the start of the fight, but tonight he continued marching forward, crossing the vast arena toward his opponent.

His massive feet crunched against the metal shavings covering the arena floor as he made his way toward Megatron, every so often the crunch made a deeper sound as he stepped upon shavings soaking in puddles of assorted body fluids from previous bouts. His optics were locked with Megatron's, who just smiled at him smugly, his handsome face and ornate, polished frame glimmering there seemingly for no purpose beyond irritating Grimlock more than he already was. Grimlock wouldn't go so far as to think Megatron should have been unnerved by the Nyonian gladiator's deviation from pre-fight etiquette, but he expected him to be surprised. Megatron, of course showed only amusement. Somehow he knew, somehow he had been expecting this. Fine, whatever, Grimlock was never one to require surprise out of those he faced. "We need to talk!" His growl cut through the otherwise overwhelming sound of the crowd as he closed the distance between them to within fifty feet.

"Please tell me you're not trying to back out of this." Megatron said gracefully. "The crowd has been clamoring for this bout for half a decade."

"Shut the fuck up!" Grimlock roared as he came to a stop two feet before Megatron, standing over him. Five feet separated the tops of their heads, but while such a size difference would have unnerved the vast majority of beings, Megatron seemed to embrace the seeming disadvantage. "Are we responsible for the bombings?"

Megatron broadened his smile and turned his head toward the crowd. "First of all, watch your words and tone with me, mongrel!" Despite the wide smile, the warning was delivered with an ample supply of venom. "Now's not the time to discuss this."

"Wrong! We're discussing this now!" Grimlock snarled through the thunder of the crowd's unified grumble of excited utterances.

"You knew nothing would be accomplished without violence." Megatron replied. "You're not so stupid as to think change would come peacefully."

"I knew there would be casualties!" Grimlock snarled. "But they would be targeted! They would be selected! They would be those that opposed us! These attacks…these hundreds of attacks, slaughtering thousands upon thousands; they're indiscriminant! They're random! Some of those killed would be those we mean to have join us! Yet you've made them victims; you've made them fodder!"

Megatron's smile waned, his optics narrowed, and the gaze of his glowing red optics turned icy. "Everything is fodder." His whisper barely heard by Grimlock through the roar of the impatient crowd.

A shadow briefly fell over them, and a moment later Starscream was gracefully landing next to them. "What's going on?" He snapped, his gaze shifting quickly from one gladiator to the other. "What is the problem here?"

Megatron maintained his glare up at Grimlock as he answered the question. "Grimlock here has a problem with how we've been conducting ourselves."

"What the slag does that mean?" Starscream snapped.

"It means that I'm not a coward that kills indiscriminately." Grimlock growled as he turned toward Starscream, poking his thick right index finger into the winged robot's chest. "I pick who I kill and I make sure they know it's me that's killing them. Bombs in civilian centers are for cowardly pissants, and I want no part of it. You both can take your Grand Deception and shove it up your asses!" The Nyonian drove his finger further into Starscream's chest with enough force to send the robot stumbling back and falling to the gravelly floor. Rage filled the optics of the lowborn noble, a rage that was met with a challenging glare from the upright hulking warrior. Megatron glanced up into one of the private boxes, one reserved for House Torrent, toward Soundwave who was standing next to Shockwave. Megatron then directed Soundwave's gaze to the various red lights that indicated that the fight had not yet started. Soundwave nodded, turned, and disappeared as he marched out of his box.

Megatron returned his gaze to Grimlock as the giant turned back to him. "I'm telling them all. Letting the world know that it's you slaughtering everyone. Letting those that are following you know what you truly have in store; what you truly are."

Megatron laughed. "Those that I've selected know what I am, Grimlock; most of them anyway. It's really only you and a handful of others that fall into a gray area where you were chosen due to traits that would have made you assets, but possessing an attitude that may or may not make you trustworthy." Megatron's laughter ended, his smile faded, and as the red lights surrounding the arena changed to yellow, the amber glow highlighted the look of pure malice that the Tarnian was now exuding. "It's clear now that keeping you in the dark was the wise choice." Grimlock turned away and looked up at the lights, confused as to why they had shifted to yellow when he was clearly not in pre-fight position. The lights immediately shifted green, and a balled black fist slammed the side of his head, sending him toppling to the ground.

It was the best punch Grimlock had ever received, but it did little more than knock him down, and his head flipped back immediately toward his opponent as Starscream leapt to the air, transformed and sped off toward his private box. But Grimlock didn't see the chrome robotic form of his Tarnian foe standing over him, he saw a shifting mass of parts mid-air as Megatron was transforming. A half second later the battle-modified and heavily enhanced mining tank was slamming into Grimlock's mid-section, driving him down into the metal gravel. The treads were already spinning at full speed as they connected with the floor, and after kicking away the several inches of debris covering the solid floor, it caught enough to begin driving the Nyonian gladiator back toward the center of the fighting pit.

The crowd roared its approval, the fight they'd been waiting for had finally begun, and the opening clash was better than they'd hoped for. Grimlock shook off his initial surprise, gripped either end of the tank and hurled it back over his head, sending it toppling. Both warriors immediately transformed, and Megatron found himself staring into the optics of a massive bipedal metal dracosaur. The beast's tail waved slowly back and forth at the base, the tip snapping like a whip at the end of each arch. "Wasn't aware you had the authority to start a bout prematurely."

"It wasn't premature," Megatron snapped, a mild grin on his face, "my guess is that everyone just got impatient waiting for you to get in position."

"Cut the shit!" The beast snarled over the crowds' waves of raucous cheering. "I knew you had influence, but it's apparently more than I had guessed."

"You have no idea, beast." Megatron grinned as he shot forward and delivered a haymaker to the side of the beast's head. Grimlock rolled with the punch, hoisting his left leg up to deliver a thrust kick into Megatron's abdomen, sending him flying back. The crowd exploded at seeing the exchange, fights between small groups of Polyhexians and Nyonians erupting in small pockets around the arena. Grimlock's beastial frame was not designed for such a strike, and he lost his balance. But instead of falling, he transformed and wound up in a kneeling position that he immediately transitioned into a standing position. The two robots once again squared off against one another and the fight began in earnest. No more smack-talk, no more taunts, just the trading of blows, grappling and throws.

For thirteen minutes the combatants raged against one another, both were battered and leaking from various punctures and lacerations, before they both finally stepped away from one another to momentarily regroup and evaluate how best to proceed. "They're going to know. Everyone on the planet is going to know it's you, and not the Autobots."

"Do you think it'll change anything?" Megatron growled back. "Those here in the arena already know and are a part of it. And those outside throughout the world might gasp at first, but you'll be immediately discredited by the government itself. Sentinel Prime's hatred for Orion Pax is such that any suggestion that anyone other than the Autobots being responsible for these attacks is immediately dismissed without consideration. Add to this that the one making the accusation is a former pit champion aiming his accusations at the warrior who finally defeated him. Nobody will believe you, Grimlock. So please, feel free to do whatever you feel is necessary."

Grimlock chuckled. "Interesting, and possibly valid points, all but the part about me being defeated." Grimlock charged back at Megatron. "That shit ain't happening today!" The flurry of punches traded was as brutally intense and destructive as the initial wave over a dozen minutes before, and the reaction from the crowd was equally thunderous. Both fighters initially fought smart, Grimlock trying to use his reach advantage, Megatron attempting to capitalize on his slightly faster reflexes, but ultimately it devolved into the slugfest the crowd desperately longed for. After several more minutes of hammering away they once again broke off to stare each other down at try to devise a strategy.

Megatron took several steps back and momentarily, little more than a second really, seemed to disengage from reality and fall into his own thoughts. But the moment Grimlock seemed to notice this lack of focus, Megatron's attention was back, and he lunged forward with utter reckless abandon, employing no strategy and seeming to be leaving nothing in reserve. Grimlock met the onslaught and once again they were beating each other to death. The barrage of brutality continued, the warriors so focused on destroying the other that they failed to notice on odd uproar in the crowd, nor the presence of another lean robot landing right next to them. Even a minute later, when three other hulking robots were also there and the four outsiders surrounded them to the horrified roars of the crowd, even then they only saw the enemy in front of them.

It took Swoop, Sludge and Snarl prying them apart for them to recognize something was amiss. "What the hell is this?" Megatron roared, his outrage almost palpable.

Grimlock was equally surprised, and even more outraged. "What are you doing?" He barked at his teammates. "Get the hell out of here!" He turned to Megatron, rage still filled him, but his look of hatred slowly took on an apologetic demeanor. "I didn't order this. I don't know…I…," he turned to Swoop. "What the hell?"

"I intercepted a transmission." Swoop explained quickly. "Whoever sent it said that you had found out and that you were going to expose them. It them ordered everyone to converge on you and kill you."

"Nonsense!" Megatron roared loudly in righteous indignation. "Is this what I can expect from the best of Nyon?" He yelled out over the sounds of the outraged crowd.

Grimlock looked disbelievingly at his team, then up into the crowd. He then slowly turned back to Megatron, and noted the hint of a smile on the otherwise scowling look of hatred etched onto his face. He slowly started to recognize what had happened. "The transmission, it was only intended for my team to hear."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, beast!" Megatron snapped back, any trace of the smile wiped away. Starscream once again swooped down from the air over the pit and landed next to Megatron, his attempts to hide his duplicity woefully less than Megatron's, but he still tried his best to exude outraged confusion. To the throngs of spectators, the distance was enough for him to appear completely genuine. Megatron turned to him, answering the question asked by the look on Starscream's face. "They're claiming there was a threat broadcasted to members of the crowd to come kill Grimlock."

Starscream displayed a poor attempt at surprise. "There was no such broadcast, at least none that was detected by any of our equipment."

"Save it!" Grimlock roared. "You were not assaulted, Megatron. You've been put in no disadvantage by ruse played on my team. I'll send them away and we can pick up where we left off. Hell, I'll give you a free punch."

"I'm afraid that's not an option," Starcream replied, his assertion earning him a genuine look of agitation from Megatron, "you have already been disqualified. Megatron is the winner."

"No," Megatron grumbled, "I want to continue. They're integrity had already been called into question, and motivation for…something happening to them after they leave, well, it's already there."

Starscream looked flustered, unsure of what to say. "It's already done. It's out of my hands. Shock…"

"Idiot!" Megatron growled. He turned to Grimlock. "I genuinely do wish to finish this fight. One way or another, you'll lose and be disgraced, but if we continue on you'll at least get to hit me several more times."

Grimlock took a step toward Megatron, but stopped. Megatron's words a moment ago implied that there might be ominous plans for him and his team. They were normally more than happy to accept any challenge walking into a trap might present, but this would be different. Megatron was smarter, more powerful, more resourceful and more ruthless than anyone else who would do them harm, and despite his earlier dismissive assertions, Grimlock knew that Megatron needed him silenced. Megatron was going to see to it that they were killed, and there would be no honor involved in the murders. "No. Congratulations Megatron, enjoy your victory." Grimlock turned and marched back toward the locker room, nodding for his team to follow.

"What?" Slag groused. "Lock, you don't care about the scoresheets anyway, just take his challenge and beat his ass. Everyone will know who really won, no matter what the bullshit books have to say."

"Shut up and follow me." He growled without looking back. Swoop quickly caught up to him and marched in step at his side. "They're going to try and kill us once we leave. We need weapons and a plan for what to do if and when we break out."

Swoop nodded. "You guys grab our melee weapons. I'll hit the security center and grab some rifles or whatever they have there." The winged robot paused for a moment before continuing. "Sorry boss, the call to kill you seemed real at the time. I was totally taken in."

"Don't worry, these bitches have been deceiving the planet for over five years. More than enough practice to pull this crap off."

"Grimlock!" Megatron called out. Grimlock turned to look upon the battered but smiling face. "This isn't over, Nyonian."

Grimlock nodded. "I'm aware of that."

Polar Claw

Flames and cries of both battle-lust and agony filled the distant sky. Citadel Convoy had been razed to the ground, most of its occupants slaughtered in the first few moments of the attack, the majority of those that made it out of the citadel were hunted down before they could make it out of the Convoy Demesne. Polar Claw was one of the few; possibly the only. 'Well, not the only', he mused, looking down at the stasis pod he hugged in his arms. The Nyonians had chosen to take advantage of the distraction of the recent birthquake to launch their assault. The chaos of the planet-wide tectonic upheavals and the rejoicing at and preparation for new lives had guaranteed that their early actions had gone unnoticed and any sort of reaction would be late in coming. Nobody could predict a vectoral surge, at least as far as Polar Claw was aware, so either this was random luck aiding in Saurus Onyx's dishonorable attack, or they had been patiently biding their time. Ultimately it mattered not, the end result was the same. House Convoy was all but exterminated. In fact, the only Convoy he knew to be alive was this protoform, one put into stasis the moment his overall humanoid form had taken shape. His optics had yet to take shape, he truly was a blank slate. If he was the only survivor, then the CNA of House Convoy might live on, but the most important parts, the values, honor, courage and tradition, would have to be taught him by non-Convoys like Polar Claw or whatever loyal retainers, vassals or subjects still survived.

He had been charged by Great Convoy himself with spiriting the protoform to The Decagon, and he would be sure to get him there, but first he had to know whether there were other survivors. He and the stasis pod hid in a cavern at the base of Mount Perseverance, a place where the most loyal retainers to House Convoy knew to assemble should tragedy fall. He was about ready to give up hope of any other survivors when he heard the sounds of gentle, uneven footsteps outside. Placing the stasis pod behind a rock to his side, he readied the rifle he had taken off the corpse of the Nyonian invader, and set his battle axe to his side should he need to grab it. A moment later a red and gray form carrying a black casket stood in the entranceway. "Backstop!" Polar Claw excitedly but quietly called out. It made sense that those to have escaped the carnage were ones with bestial alternate modes; the Nyonians likely mistook Backstop as one of them as they had with Polar Claw.

"Who's there?" The old robot called out hesitantly. Polar Claw stepped forward. He was young, and had only met Backstop on a few occasions, but Polar Claw had grown in prominence in his service to House Convoy, and was confident he would be recognized. "Ahh, Something-Claw, right?"

"Polar Claw, sir." The young red and white robot replied.

"There are no others?" The old bot asked.

"Not that I have seen." Polar Claw sadly replied, the damp ceiling of the cave dripping water down onto his head and shoulders.

Backstop glared at him angrily. "You fled. You carried no one?" His teeth grit. "Craven."

"I am no craven, sir!" Polar Claw snarled before reaching back and pulling forth the stasis pod. He noted Backstop's optics stretch wide at seeing it. "Great Convoy tasked me with seeing the newborn to safety. I decided that to be of greater import than anything else."

"You decided correctly, my friend." Backstop hung his head shamefully. "I offer my most sincere apology. You are no craven, you are a loyal, courageous and honorable vassal. You have done well, Polar Claw."

"You honor me sir." Polar Claw replied. "But I have not succeeded yet, I fear. I must get to The Decagon, only in that emirate will we find safety."

"Ah, yes, Great Convoy has a strong friendship with Fastness Maximus, and he knows that sanctuary will be provided to any Convoy or individual in service to the Convoys within his emirate." Backstop replied thoughtfully.

"Then we will travel there together." Polar Claw replied.

"Nay, friend Polar Claw." Backstop sadly replied. "I wish you all haste and safety, but I must travel a different path to a different location."

Polar Claw could not believe his audio receptors. He took a step toward the short, stout warrior. "Why is that, sir? We cannot protect each other from different paths, and surely House Maximus will provide you welcome and shelter."

"Aye, I know that." Backstop replied sadly. "As does Saurus Onyx. You will likely find safety, enough to repel his forces should he push that far north. But we cannot put all hope for House Convoy in one location." He tapped the casket, a shiny black substance. "Black coral, harvested from the northwestern shore of the Mithril Sea and crafted into this small cask, a gift to House Convoy by Paxus himself for their valor and leadership in the War For Sparks. It now contains all that remains of Convoy sentio metallico," Backstop's optic were suddenly cast downward, the rest of his sentence barely making it out as a whisper, "that which was left in the Convoy Pool was devoured by cosmic rust, the vile substance pumped in by Saurus Onyx himself."

"Bastard!" Polar Claw snarled. He looked reverently at the cask. "Sir, I assure you it will be safe under the protection of House Maximus."

"I can be sure of no such thing." Backstop replied. "Deathsaurus's armies may overrun those of the north. Nay, I cannot keep this precious cargo behind a force that may be overwhelmed. I must use stealth, speed and cunning to keep it from ever being found."

"Good sir, where do you plan on hiding it?"

Backstop thought deeply for many moments before providing an answer. "Deathsaurus may or may not suspect metallico was removed, but I must assume that he does. In which case he will likely believe that I seek to find a hotspot to deposit it in hopes of bringing forth another Convoy. The CNA will be mixed with that possessed by the native metallico, but the traits will have a chance of living on, and so Onyx will assume that to be my course of action."

"It is sound reasoning, sir."

"Aye, which is why I must not follow that course of action." Backstop once again remained silent for a spell as he pondered his course of action. "I will take it where there are no prying optics, and where no one would ever hope to find a spark."

"Hotspot emerge at random, sir, and I know of no place that is devoid of optics." Polar Claw advised.

"I know of one. The only place Saurus Onyx will never look for the sentio metallico of House Convoy." Backstop answered brusquely. "Primus speed, Polar Claw, do your duty, and perhaps someday we will find one another, hopefully in the service of these two." He nodded from the stasis pod to the cask.

"Aye good sir, fare well."

"Polar Claw!" The red and white robot, similar to how he had been in his dream but with pieces of heavily modified alternate mode, including fur and flesh, sat up suddenly as he came back online. He quickly gazed at his surroundings, the familiarity of his chambers within the Axalon, and an uninvited visitor gently chuckling at him. "I don't care how old I get, that never stops being funny."

"What do you want, Wolfang?" Polar Claw grumbled as he got up off his slab and walked to the door.

"A mountain of naturally occurring energon, the fur on my belly perpetually rubbed, and a harem of beautiful femmes that are OK with sharing me." The smaller blue and gray robot muttered as he followed his commanding officer out into the hallway. "But for now I'd be more than happy to settle for a ship to take us home."

"The mission is not yet complete." Polar Claw replied.

"You're slaggin' kidding me, right?" Wolfang snapped as they entered the bridge of the ship. "Alpha Trion, or whatever the hell his name is, is a human prisoner. And frankly, I'm glad. He can tell them all about the Manifest, Atlantis, the base beneath it, and in a few decades they'll have the tech to nuke it all to atoms; and we both know they'll be all for nuking it all to atoms. And frankly, once they're told about the Ferrotaxis, it'd be impossible not to concede that they're fully justified in doing so! So, let's pull everyone in. Let's scavenge whatever parts we need from Cybertronian wrecks, corpses and whatever human tech might be useful, and either repair the Axalon or build a ship from scratch. Hell, you're keeping it under wraps, but we know that there's something likely Cybertronian buried in the ice a few miles from here, we can cannibalize that! We all want to go home. We all deserve to go home. Let's go home!"

"We remain until the mission is completed or we are relieved." Polar Claw replied, immediately recognizing his poor choice in words.

"Relieved?" Wolfang asked in surprise. "There was only one guy who knew we were here, and he's now strapped to a slab in Alamogordo! At least, I assume he's still there. Hell, it's been five years, they've probably dismantled ol' Abdicator and sent pieces all over the country to be studied."

"I believe the Americans would prefer to keep him alive." The red and white robot replied as he sat down in the captain's chair. "But you're right about one thing, he is the only one to dismiss us, which is why we need to intervene on his behalf."

Wolfang laughed loudly. "Wait, you want to spring him, all while maintaining our long mandated cover?"

Polar Claw whirled the chair around and faced him. "What other choice do we have? You want to be relieved, well, unless another Convoy springs up, Atrium is the only one to do so. He's our commanding officer, and he's been captured. Not only that, but he's far more technologically adept than the rest of us combined, so you want a ship off this planet, again, we need to spring him. So, any other objections to us freeing him?"

Wolfang smiled broadly. "When you put it that way, no, no more objections. May I suggest Magna Team for this?"

"Two animals native to Africa, one a lion the size of a rhino, the other an elephant the size of, well, an elephant, and a bald eagle, which is at least native to the North American continent, but unfortunately this particular eagle has a wingspan three times greater than any other eagle on the planet." Polar Claw clarified.

"Well, in all honestly, I was thinking more about the fifty foot robot the size of a fifty foot robot." Wolfang answered. "I mean, Primus forbid the humans interrogating an alien robot suspect that there are alien robots on their planet."

"Smart ass." Polar Claw grumbled as he rotated back around to look out the transparent metal windshield displaying the vast icy artic. A buzzing from the console ended any reply other than laughter that Wolfang was going to present. A surprised Polar Claw reached forward and looked at the console before casually looking over at Wolfang. "Originating from outside the system. Countless millennia without a peep, and in the span of five rotations our phone is ringing off the hook."

Wolfang huffed in amusement. "It's the first call in five years."

"Speak." Polar Claw muttered after switching the frequency open.

"Good, Cybertronian. Based on what I've been told, I had a genuine fear that the hairless apes native to your colony would be answering." An arrogant voice came through.

"Identify yourself." Polar Claw demanded.

"I am Sky Shadow, Regional Governor of Sector Four Thirteen, Eukaris." The voice shot back. "And to whom am I speaking?"

"My name is Polar Claw, and we've had our fill of Eukarian interest in this planet." The red and white Maximal grumbled into the speaker.

"Oh, that's most unfortunate, because I've become very interested in your planet." The arrogant voice chuckled. "Several years ago a ship landed on our planet, in my region, attempting to evade our detection. Despite their efforts, we detected, tracked and captured their ship, but not until after they had disappeared into the jungle. It took a few years, but we managed to track them down and round them up one by one. And they tell an interesting tale, didn't even require any interrogation. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised by that, you're they're enemies, and even those they called allies were only allies because they were conscripted into service by the criminal Cryotek."

"What are your intentions?" Polar Claw asked, his voice devoid of the fear slowly welling up inside of him. His men couldn't handle a fourth war of beasts, and the world they lived in now was vastly different than the Earth of the previous wars. The humans had advanced just enough to be a danger to themselves and the Maximals who would attempt to keep them from harm, but he had no faith that they'd be able to do any damage to Eukarian invaders.

"I haven't fully fleshed out my intentions yet, but rest assured, I most definitely am interested in the Manifest, and Jhiaxus's lab, specifically this Ferrotaxis." Sky Shadow replied, mirth still etched into his voice. "Normally I wouldn't have bothered to inform you of this, but the description of your remaining forces as described by the prisoners has made it clear that you will pose no threat. A handful of Decagon Convoy loyalists amount to nothing."

"Perhaps you knew Magmatron, he was of Eukaris." Polar Claw replied smugly. "He once felt as you do. We Maximals still exist, he does not."

"Nor do the Convoys who led you!" Sky Shadow shot back.

"The greatest warlords of Eukaris and Beest have taken their shot at us and failed." Polar Claw snapped back, this time a bit a humor in his voice. "And while we are weaker without our fallen Convoy brethren, I'm confident that we are more than enough to handle some regional governor unfit to polish the floors of Magmatron's Eukarian manse."

"That confidence will be your downfall, Maximal." Sky Shadow bit a quick reply before ending the communication.

Polar Claw switched closed the dead signal and rotated back to the worried face of Wolfang. "Alert the others to this, and have them ready to respond at a moment's notice."

"And plans to free Primon?" Wolfang asked. "He didn't fare particularly well against Tripredacus, but according to legend he killed Deathsaurus in single combat. He might be of use if war is to come again. At the very least he should be capable of designing potent weapons to use against the Predacons of Eukaris."

Polar Claw leaned back and considered that. "Command Rattrap to track him and report when he has something."

Roller

It was hot. The heat and steam was the first thing that Roller had noticed as he walked through the gate and entered this final chamber. The heat had immediately ceased to exist to him the moment he witnessed the wall step toward him and Kup, causing him to jump back. Kup must have seen this reaction countless times before from other visitors seeking an audience with Omega Supreme, but those previous experiences had not dulled him to the event enough to keep him from laughing. Roller was just now getting to the point where he had composed himself enough to address the giant. "Great Omega Supreme, oldest and greatest defender of the realm, I thank for you agreeing to meet with me."

"You claim that your polyhistor has revealed his secrets to you?" Omega Supreme's green optics burned through the steam of the dimly lit chamber, his booming voice flat and devoid of any emotion. It was unnerving to the young Pax, who was already having difficulty considering the giant as just another Cybertronian; the lack of any sense of feeling in a voice that was a force of nature only enhanced his apprehension.

Roller pushed passed his trepidation and smiled at the behemoth. "Alpha Trion" he noted Kup and Omega Supreme exchange glances at his use of the name, "is so ancient that to reveal all of his secrets to me would take vorns, but yes, he has revealed much."

"To me Alpha Trion is but middle aged," Omega responded, "I have seen with my own optics creatures and events which he considers legend and myth. And you, a child of six years, it is doubtful these matters you consider to be of great weight and significance are worth my attention."

"I am all but certain that Sentinel Honorum, a being I know for a fact you feel to be unfit to be a Prime, intends to attack The Torus Heights." Roller countered. "I cannot believe that the fall of House Pax is beneath your attention."

"Paxus is dead. Arlon is dead. I valued them and their ideals, as I did those of Honorus." Omega reasoned. "If I am to care nothing for Sentinel of House Honorum, why should I care for Roller, or Olnius, or Torenia, or Stronghold, or any other member of House Pax?"

"I could tell you that we have held the ideals of our founder to a greater extent than the descendants of House Honorum. I could try to explain that in this conflict that seems petty to you that we are in the right. I could try to justify my position in several different ways, but ultimately I'm telling you not to care about Roller. Do not care about Torenia. Do not care about Olnius or Stronghold or Loronus. Do not care about any of the members of House Pax…save one. I'm going to tell you that you need to give a care for Orion Pax."

"The foundling?" The thunderous volume of Omega Supreme's already booming voice impossibly increased. "A six year old tells me that another six year old demands my intervention?"

"Aye!" Roller answered without hesitation, stepping toward the giant over the moist stone and metal floor as he continued. "I am merely reporting what Alpha Trion told me before spiriting that foundling to safety off-world. Orion of House Pax, the only one of our kind to be spawned on Isla Avalonius, born of green spark, dense, incompatible metals, and sentio metallico," the blue robot withdrew a black shard of shiny material and tossed it at the huge right foot of the giant, "metallico harvested in ages past, by persons unknown, for purposes unknown." Roller paused as he and Kup watched Omega Supreme step back with his left leg and place his left knee on the ground to better view this black artifact, a piece too small for him to grasp with his claw. "Alpha Trion believes him to be the Prime who was Promised. Based on that bit of Corallium Furvus found within the cave he was born, it's possible someone else did too."

Omega Supreme studied the piece of black coral for a few more moments before righting himself to his full height and looking back down on his guests. "This means nothing."

"His spark emerged on Isla Avalonius! Off the shores of Iacon!" Roller barked.

"I know where it is." The giant replied indifferently.

"In your long life, have you ever seen that before?" Roller pressed.

"No, but again, it means nothing." Omega countered. "One oddity on a planet of oddities, nothing more."

"One oddity?" Roller grew desperate, he knew he was losing the Guardian's interest, and that his dismissal was close at hand. "But it is not merely one oddity. His spark found metallico left there for a reason."

"You found coral, it is your assumption that it is related to the sentio metallico that birthed your friend." The giant replied, once again indifference etched into his voice. "Sentio metallico emerges naturally all over the planet, where and why are still unknown to the greatest of our scientists. There was a time when the very pool you emerged from was barren."

"True, but add to this the oddity that it was an ignis superious that broke through the mountain floor and drew in the metallico and various other metals; metals that are incompatible with spark-based life, but somehow they not only support his life, they make him damn near impervious." Roller rattled off quickly.

"Bah, ignis superious. As if a green spark were anything special." The giant spat, his voice almost giving the impression of caustic humor, but he calmed and took a more reflective tone as he continued. "I suppose in this era it is. For every forty to sixty thousand ignis communia, there is one ignis superious; the last remnants of an elemental age that was coming to an end when I was born." He peered intently down at the young Pax. "But believe me when I tell you that Vector Sigma's pulses have given greater gifts than green sparks."

"Yes, my polyhis…Alpha Trion has suggested that possibility." Roller replied, knowing that this was taking him off the discussion of enlisting the giant's aid in a battle he feared was imminent.

"Possibility, boy?" For the first time Omega Supreme let out a chuckle. But it lacked any sense of joy, and left Roller feeling more apprehensive than he had before. "I have borne witness to these 'possibilities'. In fact, before you stands one of these 'possibilities'. Do you think even an ignis superious could power a frame such as mine? Do you think a miniscule green spark could enable me to shatter mountains, to overpower hundreds with nothing but my brute strength and invulnerability? You talk of the foundling's invulnerability; trust me child, he and every last living creature on this planet is pathetically vulnerable to the likes of me. And at one time, there were beings that considered the power I wielded to be equally pathetic compared to their might. So don't talk of the significance of your friend's green spark to a being that bears one that glows gold!"

"Fine, I won't." Roller replied. "You've discounted the many unlikelihoods leading to his impossible birth; I don't understand your reasoning for doing so, but I'll accept that. But he has the endorsement of Alpha Trion. I pray that to be less discountable to you."

"The opinions of Alpha Trion carry great weight with me." Omega Supreme replied. "But he made the identical claim of another."

"I know, and he was wrong with Gallus Honorum. He has acknowledged that." Roller explained. "Orion fits the prophecy perfectly."

"Prophecy, bah!" Omega Supreme spat the words out. "I met those prophets he puts so much faith in. I stood guard for those that made themselves my masters, masters that brainwashed me at birth to believe I was a creation created to serve and protect them, and to extend that service and protection to their guests. These particular guests hailed from a planet that existed out of the standard temporal stream, a world my former masters simply referred to as LV117. And child, whatever faith Alpha Trion placed in the words of these creatures is misplaced." He leaned forward, glaring heatedly at the youth. "Alpha Trion's myths were once my reality; where he sees a prophecy, I remember a dizzying tale spun by these temporally displaced aliens meant for nothing more than entertainment."

"It's not just the prophecy!" Roller asserted, glaring back fearlessly. "It's Orion's honor, his intellect, his courage, his sense of justice and equality! His compassion for all life, spark-based and organic, and in the preservation of not just that life, but the dignity attached to it!" His passions enflamed, Roller marched forward several more steps and pointed up at the Guardian, causing Kup to grow nervous. Roller pressed on, ignoring the Lord Commander of the Warden's wariness. "Alpha Trion knows you well, he's known countless millions of us in his long life, and he's known our leaders, our heroes, our champions. He knew the Knights! His vast memory stretches back over twelve and a half million years. And he told me that it is Orion of House Pax that he counts as the greatest of us he has had the honor of knowing." Roller glared silently at the Guardian, hoping desperately that his words would sink in and take root. "One day, hopefully soon, Alpha Trion will return with both the Matrix and Orion Pax. On that day there needs to be somewhere that is secure for them to return to. The Torus Heights is his home, please, great hero of Cybertron, please help us to keep his home secure from tyranny."

Omega Supreme maintained optic-contact with the vastly smaller blue robot for many moments, his face almost betraying a feel of compassion, but after much consideration that hint of compassion passed. "When they return, I will be happy to meet with them. But I will not intervene in your wars. My function is keeping the evil that is confined here from escaping; it is my sole duty. And while you will not believe it, I have felt a restlessness beyond this barrier that I have not felt in fifteen million years. I wish you well, Roller of House Pax, but I will not be abandoning my post to aid you." With that the Guardian raised his gaze and nodded to Kup.

Roller continued staring up at Omega Supreme, trying to ignore the footsteps approaching him. He even tried to ignore the gentle touch on his shoulder. "Come on lad, it's time to go." Roller's gaze dropped dejectedly to the floor, and he then nodded and turned to leave.

Wreck Gar

"Well I like it." Nan-cee replied as she felt the contours of her recently redesigned cranial shell. She once again paced the distance of the private office of the Gar and stopped before the mirror next to the door to admire her new look.

"You know what you look like, don't you?" Wreck Gar asked as he muddled through a pile of reports sent to him from his various Lo-Gars.

"I be knowin' what I be lookin'." Nan-cee replied. "Lithone be smart and good bots. Worth 'miring."

"Yes, smart and worth admiring, but not the most physically attractive of colonials." Wreck-Gar responded, still focused on the reports.

The view of the distant sun setting through the window behind the Gar caught Nan-cee's attention as she turned back to her dismissive and distracted conjux, but after a moment of admiring the scene, she refocused on the Gar. "You fully propah talk now."

Wreck Gar slowly raised his optics to his conjux and considered her statement for a moment. "Yes, I suppose I have gotten to that point." He finally pushed the data-pads away from him and devoted his full attention to her. "At one time, all of us not pulled from protoformal state here spoke proper Cybertronian, or at least something akin to it. Our dialect didn't begin to form until we'd been here for millennia."

"Five years with the Pax Lo-Gar be changin' you." Nan-cee suggested as she sat down.

"We've all changed." Wreck Gar chuckled as he replied to her from across his desk. "Most of what you say is propah talk now too." The Gar of Junk reached out and fingered one of the data pads scattered on his desk. "Speaking of another propah-talker, I'm expecting Detritus shortly. I've summoned him."

"Summoned him?" Nan-cee asked, surprise on her face. "Why-come he be a summonin?" A broad grin coming over her at Wreck Gar's reaction to her exaggerated example of the Junk dialect.

"Very funny, you sounded just like Pinion." Wreck Gar muttered, the humor in his voice not quite making it to his optics. "I've received various reports of dissention and other bits of trouble being stirred up in various regions around Junk. The unrest has taken varying forms, but the one constant is that Detritus Lo-Gar has been present during or shortly preceding these events. Which makes sense, as I've received reports from Zens and other Lo-Gars that he has been expressing dissatisfaction with my decisions."

"Bein' mad you made an off-worlder a Lo-Gar?" Nan-cee asked. "Orion off-worlder, true, but he's best Lo-Gar on Junk. And so 'some, very 'some."

"I wouldn't say that to any other Lo-Gars, but yes, I've been very impressed with his stewardship of his sector." Wreck Gar smiled at the scowl on his conjux.

"Stewardship of his sector?" Nan-cee scoffed. "Propah talk one thing, but foppy-soundin' words annoy."

"You deserved to be annoyed, telling me you think my Pax Lo-Gar is handsome." Wreck Gar replied with a grin.

"Wreck Gar?" Pinion hesitantly muttered through the cracked door.

"Yes Pinion?" Wreck Gar acknowledged.

"Detritus Lo-Gar here ta' be seein' tha' Gar." The timid steward reported.

"Thank you Pinion, please send him in." Wreck Gar replied as he rose to his feet and looked to Nan-cee. "You don't want to be here for this."

"I be knowin' dat." Nan-cee replied as she stood up, leaned over the desk and gave her conjux a peck on the lips. "Stay 'laxed, my Gar." She abruptly turned and headed to the door, smiling at Detritus Lo-Gar who was just entering. "Greetings, my Lo-Gar."

"Greetings Nan-cee." Detritus replied with a smile across his hard, almost cruel-looking face. "You are as lovely as ever, though I can't say I like the change to your cranial shell. It makes you look almost like…I can't quite place it, but I've seen it before."

"A Lithone." Wreck Gar said as he waved Detritus Lo-Gar to the chair that Nan-cee had just left.

"Well I like it." Nan-cee responded as she marched out of the office, shutting the door as she went.

"Thank you for coming." Wreck Gar replied as they both took their seats.

"Of course, my Gar." Detritus replied respectfully. "I will always honor a summons from my Gar."

"There have been allegations made against you, my Lo-Gar, accusations of you speaking against me and advocating peaceful resistance to my rule. Some allegations are that some of that resistance should not be that peaceful." Wreck Gar leaned forward over his desk and peered intently at Detritus. "And there are multiple acts of violence and other forms of civil disobedience left in the wake of your recent visits to various sectors."

"My Gar," the Lo-Gar took on an air of innocence and feigned surprise that was not difficult for Wreck Gar to see through, but he listened politely none the less, "I have never done anything to incite law breaking, violence or civil disobedience. I am not out there fomenting dissent. True, I have spoken of my disappointment in your accepting a royal off-worlder, and then even greater disappointment at you naming him a Lo-Gar last year, but that is no secret. I have told you the very same things directly to your face, and I believe to the core of my spark that such dangers are to be made known to all citizens."

Wreck Gar stared at Detritus evenly for nearly a minute, knowing that the Lo-Gar's ambition and attempts to undermine him had preceded the arrival of Orion Pax by tens of thousands of years, if not more. He reached forward and lifted a pad. "Perhaps it would be better to address each allegation individually."

There was a gentle knock at the worn and rusted metal door. Detritus Lo-Gar turned around in his chair and called out. "Enter." Wreck Gar shuddered slightly with anger at the presumption of his Lo-Gar. Not only was it not his place to halt their discussion and admit whoever knocked, but he did it to put a stop to what was certain to become a dressing down. Detritus remained twisted, looking back at the door, undoubtedly in an attempt to ignore the angry gaze being given off by his Gar.

The door opened and once again Pinion's head poked through the crack. "Da' Pax Lo-Gar here to be seein' da' Gar."

A low grumble preceded Detritus's words. "Tell that off-worlder to…"

"Come in." Wreck Gar finished the statement with his interruption. Pinion's head nodded and disappeared, and a moment later Orion Pax entered the chamber, his finish tarnished and weathered looking, a battle-plate in place over his mouth, a four-bladed battle axe in his left hand and a large, dual-bladed axe strapped to his back. Wreck Gar stood with a smile at seeing his guest. "My young Lo-Gar, how good it is to see you. It has been months!"

"Aye, it has." Orion looked down at Detritus and nodded. "I apologize if I've interrupted, my business can wait."

"No, please, remain." Wreck Gar instructed, earning him a look of anger and disbelief from Detritus's quickly turning head. "We have matters of state and justice to discuss, and I would value your input."

"My Gar, I must protest." Detritus bristled at the indignity of having accusations against him aired before this off-worlder, as if the Gar intended for the royal intruder to pass judgment upon him. "Not only is he unworthy of my presence, but he dares to enter your presence with weapons drawn."

"A gift must be drawn for me to present it to my Gar." Orion replied, twisting the quad-blade so that it was laid out in both hands, and he then bowed his head and extended it toward the approaching Gar. "I forged it myself from a cybertanium alloy. Please be careful, I spent days honing the blades to a point that will cut through virtually anything."

"Liar!" Detritus growled. "There is no more cybertanium to be found on Junk!"

Orion regarded him evenly, his thoughts much harder to get a determination of with that mouth-plate covering half his face. "The ancient records spoke of a home world ship that went down in the Acid Sea seven million years ago. Based on what I know of vessels of that era, I guessed that vast portions of the hull would consist of cybertanium alloys, and that those alloys were durable enough to remain undamaged, even after seven million years at the bottom of the Acid Sea."

"How did you go about retrieving this material?" Wreck Gar asked, astonished by the apparent feat.

Orion shrugged. "I can withstand the acid for long periods of time, so I merely swam to the depth and retrieved portions of the hull." He nodded back over his shoulder. "I intended only to smith you a gift, but I came away with enough material for two axes."

"A gift for your senior Lo-Gar then?" Detritus asked, almost challenging the youngster to refuse him.

"So that you can add it to the other weapons that you have been stockpiling?" Orion asked scornfully, his optics tightening as a look of shock came over Detritus. "Yes, Detritus Lo-Gar, I am aware of your weapons caches in Lafilla Nine, Piletian Four, and Compaxus Two, and I suspect there are several others as well."

Wreck Gar was stunned, and turned his head to fix a glare onto the utter look of surprise and rage etched into Detritus's face. "Is this true?"

"The child exaggerates!" Detritus Lo-Gar grumbled.

"I've compiled a report, it's accurate I assure you." Orion responded. "Wreck Gar can determine whether I've exaggerated or not."

"I should wrench that axe off your back and filet you with it!" Detritus Lo-Gar roared as he jerked to a standing position, knocking over the chair and sending it bouncing across the metal floor.

"I'm sorry, my fellow Lo-Gar, but you may not have the axe." Orion replied, completely undaunted by Detritus's furious display. "Frankly, you should be happy with me. I have provided you with the greatest gift you've ever desired." 

"Oh," Detritus snarled, "what gift is that?"

"The gift of pretext." Orion replied. "An excuse. My existence here is something that you can twist into some sort of justification for doing what you've longed to do for a very long time. You've wished to rise up and take the title of Gar for yourself. With me not only having been given sanctuary here, but now a position of authority, you can call not only Wreck Gar into question, but the democratic process that made him Gar into question." Orion glared heatedly at Detritus, silently issuing his own challenge. "You've wished to wrest control of this planet from Wreck Gar since well before I was born, you now have your pretext to set those events into motion."

"Lies!" Detritus roared. "You are a filthy royal tool to facilitate Cybertron's conquest of us, and now you have revealed yourself to be a liar devoid of honor!"

"One of us has." Orion replied calmly.

"You have brought your evidence?" Wreck Gar asked the young Pax.

"I have, Wreck Gar." Orion replied, still staring intently at Detritus.

"Detritus Lo-Gar, you will be given every opportunity and resource needed to answer these charges and their corresponding evidence." Wreck Gar replied.

"Then prepare your case, my Gar." Detritus snarled, optics still locked onto those of Orion. "I will prepare my defense and the truth will come out at last." With that Detritus stormed toward the door, yanked it open and marched out.

"We should detain him." Orion suggested.

"You've done nothing but make accusations, Pax Lo-Gar." Wreck Gar answered, though his voice wavered; he agreed with Orion, but he couldn't bring himself to act against one of his oldest friends.

"The accusations are true, the evidence is beyond sufficient to prove them, and he is aware of this." Orion explained. "His only course of action is to set his uprising into motion. If he leaves the capital, he will wage war."

"I pray you're wrong, young Orion."

Shockwave

"I have found them." Shockwave relayed to Soundwave. He knew his kinsman would forward the message on to Megatron, but he and his ten House Torrent guards were not going to wait for an order from the gladiator. The Nyonian saurian warriors knew too much, and were fully intent on exposing them. They needed to be silenced. Grimlock and his team had managed to come by some rifles and had fought their way out of the coliseum and disappeared into the wastelands. Starscream had assured everyone that they would be apprehended soon enough. After two hours Shockwave had run out of patience and set out with the Torrent guards. It had taken him another hour, but he had finally succeeded where Starscream had failed. The five fugitive gladiators were up ahead, moving as quickly as their robotic forms could run through the narrow ravine.

Shockwave had redesigned his alternate mode several times before settling on the wide spectrum mobile cannon he was right now. With the fusion generator he had built into his chest and the various other modifications he'd made or had others make to his frame, he was capable of flight as well as emitting energy pulses that could range from gentle waves to horrific rounds of destruction. Right now, with the five targets moving quickly through the rust mountains, he opted for something much closer to the latter. The flying purple cannon spit forth an orb of fusion energy that blasted the center of Grimlock's back, undoubtedly killing him and sending him and all four of his teammates flying in various directions. "Stand down Nyonians, there is no escape!"

The scorched Grimlock groaned wearily as he slowly rolled over, causing a ripple of surprise to flow through Shockwave. He had not expected the warrior to survive that shot, much less remain conscious and try to stand as he was doing now. All five of the gladiators rose to their feet and looked up to the massive purple cannon and ten jet or helicopter modified guards bearing down on them from the dark, cloudy sky. "You OK Grimlock?" The winged Swoop asked.

"Fine." Grimlock grumbled, transforming to saurian mode and roaring into the night. "Kill them!" A stream of intense blue flame shot forth and enveloped the closest guard, melting his armor and sending him crashing to the ground. He was likely dead, not that it mattered to Shockwave as his other troops began taking fire from the stolen rifles and Grimlock's redirected flame.

Shockwave transformed, and leveled his wrist cannon at the group. Like with his cannon mode, the wrist cannon emitted energy that could range from harmless to well beyond lethal, though apparently not that lethal to the likes of Grimlock. Whatever, as powerful as the Nyonian juggernaut was, he could not withstand repeated shots. He fired at the bipedal saurian, but the beast was prepared and moved enough so that it was only a glancing shot across his spiked metal back. Shockwave was rewarded with a stream of intense blue flame that was enough to force him to take cover. The remaining nine guards, arrogant fools, decided to engage the gladiators at close range, and as Shockwave could have guessed, were now paying for their stupidity. Nine had become six, and before Shockwave could reposition himself for another shot, six had become four. He poked around a metal boulder and scored a powerful bolt against the bestial neck of Grimlock, sending the monster back and to the ground, and by Shockwave's estimates, eliminating the threat posed by his fire breath. Shockwave stood up and stepped away from his cover, allowing Grimlock a clear shot. The draco-saur attempted to spit forth another line of flame, but as Shockwave had guessed, the weapons system associated with that had been damaged beyond functional status. "I will tell you again, stand down!"

"You're only telling us that to lull us into thinking you want to apprehend us!" Swoop snapped. "We all know you mean to execute us!"

"I guess you're smarter than you look." Shockwave replied as he fired a shot that blasted Swoop's left wing apart.

"Lord Onyx, I've found them!" Shockwave's head yanked around to see the small flier zip by overhead. "Shockwave of House Torrent is engaging them!"

Shockwave considered blasting the small black jet out of the sky, but the damage had been done. Ogrus Onyx had been out searching for his gladiators in person, and based on the scans that he had just conducted, the Emir of Nyon would be there in under two minutes. His only course of action was to engage the gladiators and make it look as though killing them was his only option to Onyx's aerial spy. Shockwave charged forward peppering the gladiators with repeated shots that punctured their armor but failed to put them down. He was startled by the saurian form transforming and the now-robotic Grimlock charging out to meet him. "Let's see if you're just a cannon, or if you can really hit!" Grimlock roared as he slammed his giant black fist into the side of Shockwave's head. Everything went black momentarily, but only momentarily, and Shockwave replied to the punch with one of his own. Grimlock was sent stumbling back as well, rubbing his jaw and chuckling through his faceplate. "I guess you can."

Shockwave raised his cannon arm, but Grimlock was on him again before he could get a shot off, and the two traded blows while the other four gladiators finished off the House Torrent guards. "Grimlock, stand down!" The thunderous voice of Ogrus Onyx boomed off the walls of the tight ravine. Grimlock and his gladiators turned to look upon their liege lord. "Haven't you done enough damage to my pride and honor today?" He yelled, keeping his rifle aligned at them, just as the rifles of his twenty guards were aligned on the gladiators. Ogrus turned to Shockwave. "Lord Shockwave, you have my gratitude for locating and engaging my vassals. I will provide restitution for any guards lost in this fight, as well as a reward."

"Idiot!" Grimlock snarled. "Don't offer this shitbag a reward, he's trying to kill us before we expose what he, Megatron, Starscream and others are up to."

"Silence, worm!" Ogrus roared.

"They're seeking to overthrow the government, to overthrow the system of nobility and royalty!" Swoop chimed in. "The terrorist attacks that have been going off almost weekly for the last several years, those aren't the Autobots, they're Megatron's band of psychopaths!"

Ogrus chuckled. "You mean to tell me that Shockwave of House Torrent and Starscream of House Nexus are involved in a plot to overthrow the royal houses?" His chuckle rose to a deep laugh. "Fools, do you have any idea of how stupid that sounds?"

Grimlock stepped forward. "Starscream is an opportunistic twat casting his lot in with who he thinks will win. Shockwave, hell, not sure why he's involved. Maybe he's tired of Lightwave being in charge of his House. Ultimately it doesn't matter, take one look at my back and it's obvious they weren't trying to subdue us, they're trying to kill us." Grimlock turned around to display the wound Shockwave had given him in cannon mode, but immediately transformed and his saurian jaws were locking onto Shockwave's shoulder before the purple royal could react. Grimlock bit hard, tearing through much of the powerful frame, but not as much or as easily as he was accustomed to. Once again Grimlock was impressed by the physical power of Shockwave, but just because he could not bite the royal in half didn't keep him from whipping Shockwave around, against the ravine walls, and causing extensive damage.

The saurian finally spat Shockwave loose, letting him collapse to the ground. Onyx's forces had engaged the gladiators, but Grimlock charged into them and scattered them about. Shockwave pressed his back against the wall and pushed against it to rise to his feet, but before he could get fully upright a horn from the bestial form of the one called Slag impaled his abdomen. "No bitch, you're done with this fight!" Shockwave grunted as he pushed the beast back, pulling the dripping, fluid-slick horn out of him and looking down to see the damage. Before he could fully evaluate his injuries, a speeding razor-barbed tail impacted him against his face. He was stunned even before the back of his head slammed against the metal cliff wall behind him, and did not see the largest member of the team, the one called Sludge, charge him and drive his sword into the puncture than Slag had made seconds before. "Ughnnnn." Shockwave groaned as Sludge yanked his blade free and then reared back and whipped around, slamming the bottom of his fist across the side of Shockwave's head. He wasn't Grimlock, but he was monstrously strong.

Shockwave went down to the ground hard, still conscious but critically damaged. While he had gone through many alterations to his shell mode, he had never truly bothered with armor or press enhancements. At this moment he was regretting that decision, along with his decision not to bother learning any of the combat arts. "Grimlock, we need to get the hell out of here!" The voice he knew to belong to Swoop yelled out over the commotion.

"I know!" He heard Grimlock reply with a roar. "Onyx, I know that reinforcements are coming, otherwise I'd stay to kill you. Instead, I'll give you some advice; watch your friends! They're a far greater threat than we could ever be!" Shockwave turned his aching head toward the voice and watched as the saurian marched toward him. "Nice meeting you Lord Shockwave." The stomp from the beast's foot turned everything black.

Harry S Truman

As the car pulled up in front of the Army Medical Laboratory in the Edgewood Arsenal, the President readjusted his fake mustache, wincing once again at the awful smell of the chemical adhesive doing a poor job of keeping the faux hair stuck to his face. "Perhaps I should leave a sample of this damned glue for the doctors to play with. I can't imagine mustard gas being any worse than this." He muttered to his driver, turning his head enough to see if the comment got a reaction through his good…well, not good, but less useless right eye. The driver did chuckle lightly, but chances are it was more a show of politeness to his Commander in Chief than any actual humor. The disguise, an Army Colonel's uniform complete with hat to accompany the thick, bushy mustache, seemed unnecessary, but there was no official reason for the President to be visiting a chemical weapons facility. Nobody could know that he was there to visit a prisoner; a prisoner made of metal, over twenty feet tall, able to shift its shape into a functioning vehicle, older than, well, older than any God-fearing person would believe, smarter than the Paperclip scoundrels being recruited, and most frightening of all, far from unique.

He emerged from the car and quickly made his way into the building, through the corridors to the hidden elevator near the center of the building, and entered it, allowing the operator to take them down to the hidden levels hundreds of feet below. As the door opened he unceremoniously peeled off the accursed fake mustache and removed his cap as a pair of guards saluted him. He nodded and continued forward through the double doors that opened up to a well-lit expanse of a facility beyond. Soldiers stood at attention and scientists in lab coats scurried all around the facility, dozens of each. In the center of it all, free to move within the confines of a heavily electrified two hundred foot by two hundred foot cage was the alien in question. The President made his way toward the cage housing the prisoner, a prisoner that he had reluctantly forced himself to admit had become a friend. He had come to enjoy these visits, though technically he still felt obligated to consider them interrogations.

"It's your move, Mr. President." The alien announced, nodding lightly toward the chess board set up not far from the giant micro-fiche station they had built for him to allow for the reading of material they determined to be safe to reveal. He had thanked them sincerely, but then commented that keeping materials from him was pointless. Either he was no threat to them and should be able to read whatever documents he wanted, or he was, but the technology at the disposal of his people was such that they could gain access to any secrets they wanted, but that they likely wouldn't want any as their resources were so far advanced of Earth's that they wouldn't need bothering with any of their precious secrets. It was a valid point, but there was no way they were going to give him anything sensitive. Ultimately it didn't matter, he never asked for anything other than history, art, culture and a few bits of fiction, all of which seemed innocuous enough.

"Thank you, Alpha." The President replied as he entered the vast cage. The guards were still beyond apprehensive of him doing that, but Truman knew he wouldn't be harmed, and had always entered despite their protests. "I'm a bit weary, chess doesn't suit me today. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not, Mr. President." The giant mechanical alien replied with a grin, finally turning away from the large screen displaying whatever he had been reading. "I understand you have a lot on your plate right now."

Truman chuckled. "When do I not?"

Alpha Trion turned fully away from the large screen to face his visitor. "The weight of leadership is staggering. I do understand much of what you're going through."

The President nodded. "I knew I was in for it when Eleanor looked me in the eyes and told me Franklin had passed. She was newly widowed, her husband barely hours dead, and I sought to console her. I asked if there was anything I could do for her, which caused her to give a sad smile and ask what she could do for me, that I was the one in trouble now." He laughed lightly at the memory. "She wasn't kidding."

"Yet you sought a term of your own three years later." Alpha replied. "You must like being in trouble."

"I must." Harry replied. "I thank The Lord that Ike didn't want the job and Dewey listened to those spineless campaign managers telling him to coast into the presidency." He smiled up at the giant. "I enjoy our conversations, oh, excuse me, these interrogations far too much to have let either of them take them from me."

"So what is it today?" The alien asked.

"The Ferrotaxis." The President answered.

"Ah, a terrible weapon that should never be used, but you know all too well that there are those that will use it." Alpha Trion muttered.

"Don't start!" The President grumbled. "Your Ferrotaxis isn't a weapon to win a war, it's a device to wipe out a planet. And besides, using the bomb saved far more lives than it took."

"Not according to General Eisenhower." Trion replied.

"Ike knew Europe, he didn't know the Japs!" Truman grumbled. "MacArthur and I can't agree on the color of shit, but we were of one mind on this. The Japanese would have kept it up for over a year at least, requiring us to lose hundreds of thousands of troops, and requiring themselves to lose even more. Ike likes to say the Japs were looking for an honorable out. We wouldn't have needed to drop Fat Man if that were the case."

Alpha Trion looked away in exasperation, but gave up. "I've told you all I know of the Ferrotaxis, Mr. President."

"There has to be more." Truman pressed. "Something we've missed. Start over, tell me of the device's creator."

Alpha Trion glanced around the cage before answering. "As I've told you before, Jhiaxus was a brilliant scientist unencumbered by ethics in any way. He came into the service of Cybertron's leader, Guardian Prime. I had already noticed changes occurring in my leader that were disconcerting, things I attributed to the influence of his second, Galvatron."

"His former enemy." Truman replied, having heard all this before. "I still don't understand that."

"Yes you do." Alpha Trion replied. "You who sat shoulder to shoulder with Stalin in Potsdam and casually mentioned your atomic weapon to him; you do understand the need to make compromises with those you hate."

"I was trying to intimidate him. Fat lot of good that did, the sum-bitch knew about the bomb long before I did." He chuckled and nodded. "But yes, point taken. Please continue."

"Galvatron's influencing of Guardian was minor, but once Jhiaxus became a member of their little circle, the changes in my friend became more pronounced." Alpha Trion looked down sadly. "To the point where I could no longer deny them. There was no limit to Jhiaxus's ambition. Truth be told, I would consider myself to be at least his equal scientifically, but there are limits to what I'll do, lines I won't cross. Jhiaxus knew no boundaries but the ones forced on him by Guardian. One such situation was the Ferrotaxis, a device that in theory could turn organic material into the metallic compositions native to our world, or at least a very close approximation of those materials. The process of course would eliminate any organic life that came into contact with it. At hearing of his plans to create this device I immediately sought out my friend, hoping he was not so far gone as to allow this abomination." The robot gave a sad, cynical smile. "My faith in my friend was restored, he agreed and shut down Jhiaxus's plans for the weapon. He even denounced the weapon before the senate." The smile faded and Trion once again lowered his head and peered at the ground. "I found out five years ago that it was all just a lie. I had believed that the Manifest's arrival here signified that this planet was chosen to be colonized as other worlds lacking intelligent life had been colonized. I was opposed to the colonization of life-bearing organic worlds, I had even recruited a trusted friend to set out and secretly obtain information on the colonies we knew of, and any we did not know of. I had long been growing suspicious of Guardian Prime's expansionist ambitions at the expense of other species; outposts were fine, but large scale colonization would require a lot of cyberforming and other changes detrimental to the native flora and fauna. Not that it mattered, by the time the Manifest launched I had already set upon my course of action. In fact, it was the arrival of Guardian Prime and his inner circle to your planet that was the culmination of my act of insurrection. I had assumed your planet to be nothing more than an opportunity for Prime to expand; I was not aware that Jhiaxus had been here long before and had been using a facility here to invent and test his horrific creations. From what I understand he had created an artificial island, and build his base deep within it. It is there that he apparently completed the Ferrotaxis, as well as other…things." Alpha Trion spat.

He then looked back through the thick lenses and into the eyes of his human friend. "I was unaware of Jhiaxus's prior involvement with your planet and the existence of the Ferrotaxis when I sabotaged the Manifest and its crew. I simply thought this was a verdant organic world thus far untouched by Cybertronian hands when I scuttled the ship into one of your oceans. I don't remember Jhiaxus's island, truth be told I didn't look for it and likely wouldn't have noticed it being different than any other land mass had I casually come across it. I positioned a garrison of trusted soldiers here to guard the Manifest, and I left, hoping to one day change Cybertron so that I could return Guardian Prime, Galvatron, Jhiaxus and the others to face a justice that they deserved. But I failed to change my world, and once again I allowed doubt and self-pity to keep me from achieving what I had initially set out to achieve, abandoning those protecting your world in the process. Criminals and warlords from other colony worlds found Earth, wars were waged, both the Manifest and Jhiaxus's holdings were discovered and violated, but my friends prevailed against impossible odds; many of them paying the ultimate sacrifice to do so. The last of these wars ended eleven thousand years ago, when a criminal turned warlord activated the Ferrotaxis on Jhiaxus's island. A brave soldier sacrificed himself to destroy the Ferrotaxis, finally killing this Cryotek but sacrificing himself and the island to do so. He was the last of his House." There was a long silence, but after close to a minute Alpha Trion finally finished. "I promise you, Mr. President, that's all I know of the Ferrotaxis. Perhaps if you would allow me to make contact with the last of the Maximals stationed on your planet they could tell you more."

Truman rolled his eyes. "You know that there's no way I can let you do that."

Alpha Trion nodded. "Yes, I understand. But without them there's little chance of you finding the Ferrotaxis and making sure it's destroyed for good."

"I've got very smart men pouring over every Atlantis myth we can find." The President replied. "Perhaps something there will help us out."

The robot shrugged, doubt clear in his expression. "Possibly." He then gave a sad smile. "Even the Manifest has been moved from where I left it, so I'm of no use to you on that front either."

Truman rolled his eyes. "Maybe if you told us where your friends are…"

"They haven't told me of the location of their base, though I could probably guess." Alpha Trion replied. "But I have already betrayed them far too much, and frankly, telling you wouldn't do you any good. They'd detect you and relocate long before you got to them."

The President took a deep, exasperated breath. "Fine, then tell me again how it is that your type of life can exist."

Alpha Trion smiled. "Thirteen point eight billion of your years ago all matter and energy was condensed into an infinitesimally small coalescence of…well, everything. In an instant it erupted, its expansion vaster than even I can easily envision. But the energies didn't transfer evenly, and enriched portions of energy collected, creating instances of hyper-dense energy clusters that kept their vast energies contained within themselves…for the most part. There were different categories of these clusters, the most energy-dense that we've come across are categorized as Omega class or caliber. These have a strong gravitational pull, so planets always form around them, which is the case of our Cybertron. Often times these clusters will pulse, emitting a tiny fraction of its life-giving energies, which if exposed to the right mix of nourishing materials…" The alien droned on, and Harry Truman quickly regretting steering the conversation this way.

Glyph

"They're not caverns!" Glyph called out to the rest of her team as they tried to keep up with her in the narrow corridor.

"Fine, tunnels, whatever!" Tap-Out called back. "You're right, the walls are too smooth, they're likely artificial."

"They're not tunnels either!" Glyph called out as she finally reached the end of the long tube. Most of her team were unable to follow her, the tubes this deep were far too narrow for anyone over ten feet in height to travel through. Even her nine-foot frame was too large to comfortably fit within this structure, and she had been forced to run in a crouched position for miles. She had drilled through the metal hours before, discovering this hive of what appeared to be tunnels. Her team had insisted that they were so deep down that no Cybertronian had ever been there before, but it didn't take long to recognize that this was not a natural formation…at least, it wasn't just a series of caverns anyway. She had believed she had found a long buried and forgotten temple, perhaps left by those she believed to have predated her species.

She sent up word of her discovery, which was met with obvious skepticism, but the team had traveled down after her anyway. Even if she was wrong and it wasn't a built structure, a cave system so far down would be more interesting than anything they'd found at the upper levels in recent months. The lower levels of Nyon had produced vast paleontological and archeological treasures, but the discoveries had seemed to run dry about half a year ago. A cave system, naturally forming or not, could have been used as a haven for creatures; creatures that could have died and left their remains within to be discovered millions of years later.

But it wasn't until Glyph had noticed that the way this tunnel interacted with other tunnels reminded her of the inner workings of cyberganisms that she considered the possibility that she wasn't in a series of cavern or tunnels, but within the remains of a living being. She knew it was impossible, that despite whatever similarities there may have been, no creature could possibly be this size, no spark could ever power such a being, but despite that she excitedly considered the possibilities. There were legends of a giant at the Tartarun Gates that was more than five times the height of Delta Magnus and possessing the mass of a small holdfast. Of course, even if those legends were true, a being of this size would be proportionally larger than the Tartarun giant as the Tartarun giant was to her. But no matter what, she had found something amazing; she just didn't know what it was yet. "Hurry up!"

Tap-Out finally came into view, the glow of his lamp lighting the lower portion of his face and making shadow monsters of the other members of their group behind him. "OK, Professor Smarty-gears, what exactly have you discovered here?"

"I don't know, but I intend to keep going." She turned to the wall at her back, one that like with the rest of the tunnels they travelled through, was too smooth to be a natural formation in the ground.

"Hold up a moment, Glyph." The voice coming from the depths behind Tap-Out belonged to the graduate student Greenlight. "My sensors are going wonky. Based on the energy levels being given off, I'm guessing there's a huge energon deposit on the other side of that wall."

"Is it stable?" Tap-Out asked.

"I…I don't know." Greenlight replied, her voice apologetic, she hated not having the correct answer at the ready, even for questions asked of Tap-Out, who was not a scientist, just Glyph's boyfriend who made himself useful by doing most of the labor in their camp. "It's not reading as an energon deposit. It's not reading like anything I've seen before."

Tap-Out looked at Glyph. "Get behind me."

"This is my discovery." Glyph grumbled.

Tap-Out gave her a stupid look. "I'm not trying to steal your find. It's still your discovery, I'm just a better cutter."

"You're worried I'll get hurt." Glyph gave him a look.

"You accused me of trying to steal your glory," Tap-Out came back, "to make up for that insult you have to do what I say. So get behind me."

"I did not accuse you." Glyph protested, but she was already scooting back, noting the smile across Tap-Out's face as she was forced to press her body against his to squeeze by.

Tap-Out positioned himself in front of the wall and withdrew his boring tools. He looked back at the group. "I'd feel a lot better if you guys backed up a lot more than that. I don't know what's on the other side of this, but if it's giving off energy readings like that, it can very possibly be dangerous."

"Just shut up and drill, fraidy-cyberfeline." Glyph shot back with a grin, but took a serious look. "Be careful." Tap-Out nodded and got to work. It was slow going, the barrier was several feet thick and the metal quite dense, but he finally cut through. It took him another hour to cut a hole big enough for them to squeeze through. "I love you hun, but I want to be the first to look and go into there!" Glyph called out as Tap-Out pushed the large metal piece through and exposed the opening. Exhausted, he was barely able to turn to face her before she was crawling over him and through the hole beyond, a hole that was already being lit from within by something.

Glyph pushed through and found herself in a room where she could not only stand, but that was well-lit enough for her to see reasonably clearly. Her optics immediately went toward the source of the light, and fixated upon a glowing orange orb that measured fifteen feet in diameter. She fixated on the lightly pulsing orb, failing to notice as her comrades followed her into the chamber. "What is it?" Tap-Out asked, completely in awe of what they were witnessing.

"The Heart of the Dragon." Another grad student, Lancer, muttered out.

"What's the Heart of the Dragon?" Glyph asked, finally breaking away from gazing at the glowing discovery.

"A legend." Lancer replied, the orange portions of her frame reflecting the light in an eerie manner. "A Nyonian legend that Rage told me a few months back when we were heading to this area." Rage was a local Nyonian that had been assigned to the group by House Onyx, the ruling clan. "He joked that it was a myth older than our species, about a power buried deep within the ground, one ancient and terrible. The old gods ruled Cybertron, but there were monsters and demons of such power that couldn't be contained. The gods sought to control them. Some beasts were subdued, but the dragon wouldn't be tamed, and they were forced to kill it. But the heart of the dragon lives on deep within Nyon, the dragon's blood flowing through the metal, which is why Nyon has so many more bestial forms than anywhere else on Cybertron."

"Nyonian beast modes are beast modes because that's what they choose to do with their shells." Tap-Out muttered.

"Yes, but statistically speaking, Nyon does produce far more non-humanoid robotic modes than any other emirate." Glyph muttered. "But ultimately, I agree, it's just a legend, and likely just an unrelated coincidence in regards to this discovery."

"Well," Tap-Out finally tore his optics off of the orb, "come to think of it, this does resemble a spark chamber."

"Whatever it is," Glyph grinned broadly as she started walking around the orb, "it's going to rewrite everything we thought we knew of our planet."


	13. Chapter 13

Mindwipe

"Answer, damn you!" The whispered snarl was heard by no one in the almost empty communications room, which was fortunate, as it would raise even more concern the Wardens had developed for Mindwipe since shortly after his arrival at the Gates. He had been at the Gates for almost six years, and in that time his behavior had been slowly devolving to the point where all his fellow Wardens avoided him unless it was absolutely necessary. The Lord Commander had sat him down a handful of times over the years to try and figure out what was troubling the warden, but Mindwipe had always managed to dodge the issue and assure the Lord Commander that all was well; and who was Kup to disagree, despite Mindwipe's erratic behavior, he had always completed his tasks to everyone's satisfaction.

"You have reached the voicemail of Reptilion,"

"No!" Mindwipe growled loudly, causing two of the seven other heads in the room to turn and look at him. He was oblivious to their notice.

"I am unavailable to speak with you, please leave a message." The voice of the reclusive scientist finished and was followed by a beep a moment later.

Mindwipe pulled the speaker close to his face as he relayed his message. "Reptilion, it's me, I need your help. I need you to hurry! They're in my head, and no longer just when I'm sleeping. I can see them. The sparkeaters, and their servants. Their leader calls out to me when I'm awake now. I can't shut him out, and he's done waiting." The tortured winged robot slapped a palm to his head and shook it violently. "It's too much! He knows my secrets, he knows my weaknesses. I want to serve him, I must serve him, but I need you to do so! Hurry! I implore you to…"

"Beep."

"Damnit!" Mindwipe closed the connection but started redialing, only to see a blue finger thrust into his line of view and push the button to turn the communicator off. "What?" The Warden turned to the soon to be dead man who dared, and looked up into the angry optics of the Lord Commander.

"Enough!" Kup grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him up to his feet. "I don't know who you're trying to communicate with or what you were trying to say to them, and frankly, I don't care. What I do care about is the fact that you're definitely starting to fray just a few years into your service with us. You have more than seventy-seven years left of your commitment, so whatever is unnerving you, you need to fix it now!" Kup glared into Mindwipe's optics and let that sink in before continuing in a less threatening voice. "If you need help with anything, come to me, or any of the other officers, that's part of our job, and chances are we've seen whatever's troubling you before. But with or without our help, you'd better get your shit together, Mindwipe, or you'll be serving the remainder of your term in the stockade. Do you understand?"

Mindwipe managed to force out a nod and stammered a reply. "Ye…yes, of course Lord Commander. My apologies, I can handle this on my own."

Kup peered intently at the troubled Warden, both of them knowing that despite their heads being down or turned away, the other seven Wardens in the dimly-lit cavern that made up the communications room were focused on them. "See that you do. You have the makings of an excellent Warden, Mindwipe, but you need to get this under control."

"Aye, Lord Commander." Mindwipe replied convincingly, waiting for Kup to break his gaze and turn before sending a glare to the other Wardens in the room, in particular the recent recruit Borebit, a former member of Sentinel Prime's personal guard who had fallen out of favor with the Prime and had come to the Tartarun Gates to find honorable service away from Cybertropolis. He was a low noble and considered himself a paragon of honor, therefore above the common-born filth that made up virtually all of the Wardens, including Lord Commander Kup. Not that he showed any arrogance toward the Lord Commander, but he looked down on the rest of them, especially southerners with bestial shell modes like Mindwipe. He noted the condescending grin coming from Borebit accompanied by a disapproving headshake.

'Free us and we will put him and the others at your mercy.' The voice that he had come to be all too familiar with echoed through his head.

Mindwipe turned away hastily and marched toward the door that Kup had just exited through. "Not now." He whispered. "I swear to you, my lord, that I am doing all I can to expedite your freedom."

'Then you are not fit to be our advocate.'

"I am fit, and I am your advocate." Mindwipe grumbled quietly to himself, lowering his head as he passed two Wardens in the hall walking past him in the other direction. "I just need more time."

'All I have done is grant you more time, and it has amounted to nothing.'

"I cannot overpower the Wardens and the Guardian myself, my lord." Mindwipe replied quietly, carefully looking in all directions to make sure his comments or the comments occurring within his head were not being overheard. "But plans are in place, your freedom is all but certain, but we must wait for these plans to reach fruition. I swear to you, all that can be done, is being done."

'My armies are assembled, we've conscripted all the monsters of this planet's depths, we are waiting to wash over the surface, purging it of the organic, feasting on the sparks of the mechanical, and rewarding those that serve us with the glory of the power that comes with the unlife. You could be foremost of those servants, but only if you prove to be useful.'

Mindwipe turned into his personal chamber, a tiny cut into the rock wall with a slab, a footlocker and nothing else, and sealed the door behind him. "I understand my lord, your freedom is foremost on my mind at all times."

Swoop

The sun cut into his optics painfully for a moment before they acclimated themselves to the daylight outside of the cave he and his comrades had been wandering through for the last two days. Despite heading what they assumed to be west during that time, Swoop was still unsure of whether they were still within the borders of Polyhex or if they'd finally reached Nyon; not that it mattered. Whether in the jurisdiction of Machts or Onyxs, they would likely be hunted down and executed on sight. No, they needed to head north, through the Tagan Heights or Tyrest, depending on how far west they had actually traveled. Until now they had been at the mercy of the network of caverns within the wasteland mountain range, but Grimlock had muttered that enough time and distance had passed so that they could probably travel along the surface.

Swoop hadn't been so sure and insisted on checking the area around them first. He was the smallest and the fastest. Even still likely unable to fly with his damaged wing, he was still far quicker than his comrades, and was the only choice for any sort of reconnaissance mission. He walked out of the cave and onto the rock and metal landscape, looking over the horizon in all direction, the valley to the south and west, the stretch of mountains to the east and northwest, and then finally he turned around north toward the direction he knew they needed to go, up along the rocks toward the peak blocking their path. He noticed the white and black robot sitting on the boulder smiling at him right away, but the robot was so casual and relaxed that it took Swoop a moment to realize how out of place that robot seemed, and more importantly, that they were compromised. Swoop immediately raised the rifle that he had been holding loosely in his left hand. "Freeze!" He commanded, but keeping his voice as quiet as he could while still being heard by this robot sitting forty feet higher up on the cliff.

"Put that thing away." The robot replied as he hopped off the boulder and started making his way slowly down the rocky terrain.

Swoop was genuinely perplexed by this guy's nonchalant attitude and obliviousness to the danger he was in. "Excuse me? Look asshole, even if you're on your best behavior I'm likely going to have to kill you just to keep you quiet. But if you pose a threat, like you're doing now, I'll kill you without any thought to it and feel nothing along the lines of remorse later. So I suggest you actually freeze when I tell you to freeze."

The robot stopped, but displayed a look as if to say that any idea that he may be in jeopardy was silly. "You're not going to fire on me. I came here looking for you, not to kill you or detain you or divulge your position to your pursuers; no, I came so that we could help each other."

Swoop was too confused to pretend to be amused. "OK, who are you, why should I trust you, and what is this mutual help you think would be in our best interests?"

"My name is Prowl, and until recently I was Sentinel Prime's head of planetary security and his chief advisor." The robot replied.

"That's why you look familiar." Swoop replied, recognizing him and realizing that despite the absurdity of the situation, this stranger was telling the truth. "You expect me to believe that you quit your job?"

"No, in truth I was fired." Prowl answered.

"You fail to kill your quota of Autobots?" Swoop replied, still keeping the rifle pointed at Prowl.

"Oh, much worse than that." The white and black Iaconian responded. "I insisted that they weren't responsible for the hundreds of terrorist attacks over the last several years. And I may have suggested that Prime was a bit too obsessed with Orion Pax."

Swoop smiled. "Oh yeah, forgot about that kid. Fast," Swoop nodded, remembering watching the newscast from five years back, "and pretty strong to toss aside Prime like that."

Prowl nodded. "Yeah, good athlete. But he embarrassed Prime publicly, very publicly, and Prime has wanted him dead ever since."

Swoop fixed his gaze on Prowl. "You must realize that I don't believe any of this, right?"

Prowl smiled. "None of it?"

"Oh, I'm sure Prime want's Pax dead, but otherwise your story is full of shit."

Prowl sat back down on a rock and looked up at Swoop. "Look, the Autobots didn't do it, but those attacks aren't imaginary. Thousands have been killed, and whether it's my job or not, I'm going to find whoever is responsible and put an end to the carnage. The evidence I've collected suggests it may be a party or parties related to the gladiatorial circuit. So I set out on my own, knew about the superbout between Grimlock and Megatron and figured that would be a good starting point, and heard about what went down with your group as well as your subsequent escape. So, armed with satellite maps of this area that included the underground cave network, I tracked your team's most likely route, parked my shuttle on a ridge above us about a mile away, and have been waiting here for you for the last two hours." Noting the surprise in Swoop's optics, Prowl nodded. "Yes, I have a transport."

"OK, you're very clever, but everyone on the planet already knows that about you." Swoop replied, shifting his rifle but keeping it on Prowl. "What you need to convince me of is that I can trust you with the lives of my friends and I, and your little story hasn't done that."

Prowl pursed his lips, looked down at the ground and nodded. "Look Swoop, I don't need to convince you of anything. I'm here and I'm unarmed, that should be sufficient to at least let you check into my story further. But I suggest that you don't wait that long. Apparently Shockwave was knocked offline in your little skirmish with him and has been undergoing repairs, but it won't take him long to figure out what I figured out and track you guys down. Word on the street is that he's a pretty clever bastard too."

Swoop studied the smaller robot for nearly a minute silently before responding. "You may have a point about Shockwave, but that reminds me of another reason not to trust you. Word is that the powers that be, powers as in you and Prime, have turned a blind optic to the fighting circuit. Taking those rumors, and the presence of royals like Shockwave, Soundwave and others whose houses have no ownership in the circuit, makes me think that perhaps these powers that be are getting a cut of the action, and therefore you and Prime have a vested interest in shutting us the hell up."

Prowl nodded. "You're smarted than I would have thought you were based on the rumors of your squad. But while my estimation of him has taken a slide, Sentinel Prime has never been one to take a bribe. He has no love for the gladiatorial circuit, the blind optic that you've heard about is true, but it's due more to appeasing the masses in the southern emirates and that, in his mind, going after this circuit belongs on the back burner far behind the Autobots."

"And I'm just supposed to take your word for this?" Swoop was still beyond skeptical, but he was starting to be swayed.

"Do whatever you want." Prowl muttered as he stood up and started to turn to walk up the mountain. "You guys providing me useful information is a longshot at best, and frankly, I've already jumped through more hoops than I normally would for a longshot. Good luck getting out of this. My contacts are telling me that House Onyx is pissed, and everyone involved in the fight circuit is eager to silence you boys." Prowl looked up into the sky in the distance, spotting a winged animal circling high above, but then cutting through the strong wind currents of that altitude and heading away with extreme speed. "That's odd." He muttered to himself.

"Stay here!" Swoop yelled out as he leapt off a rock, painfully transformed and took to the sky, hoping desperately that his repair systems had made enough progress with his wing that this was possible. "I'm sure it's a mistake, but I believe you. I'll be back!" The large raptorsaur took off after the much smaller mechanical buzzard, closing the gap, but it seemed as though it would not be quickly enough. This thing was clearly not a typical aviaton, and if Swoop's fear was correct, a signal had already been sent to their pursuers. But there was a chance this thing was out of range, or at the very least, if he caught it, he could keep it from following them if they were to load and lift off in Prowl's craft.

The buzzard veered up and disappeared into a cloud up ahead, only to blast out the bottom of it speeding back beneath Swoop in the direction they had come from. Swoop banked to follow, but the moment his course matched the birds, the prey shot back toward his original destination and sped ahead. He then dove down toward the mountains below, twisting around a peak and cutting down into a ravine, the metal bird hugged the cliff face as he zoomed through the canyon that the ravine was transitioning into. Swoop was almost upon it, and bore down on it like an organic raptor pursuing a smaller bird it was hunting. He stretched out his talons, only for the buzzard to bank and dip further toward the small river running through the metal and rock ground. Swoop kept after it, wishing he had brought his rifle…and that he could have made use of the firearm in his bestial mode.

They once again rose above the mountains, and up ahead in the distance Swoop saw a group of vehicles speeding along the outside of the mountain range heading toward their general direction, undoubtedly soldiers for this yellow and black buzzard's master, the seemingly unassuming Soundwave of House Torrent. He had only a few more seconds to end his hunt of this little bird before he was in weapons range of the approaching group. He was almost on it, he stretched his neck and nipped at the metal feathers protruding from the rear of the bird. The creature pulled free. The raptorsaur flapped heavily once more and lunged into the bird and clasped it with his talons, both winged forms toppling through the air and plummeted down to the jagged slope of the southward facing cliff. Swoop bit tightly around the smaller creature's neck, flapping his long wings furiously to regain control. As the metal and rock rushed up he realized that it was likely a futile effort, but he continued struggling even as the serrated ground came rushing up at them.

Ogrus Onyx

Stupid idiot. He should have killed that ungrateful, belligerent, impudent, thuggish piece of shit years ago. Yes, he made Ogrus money, and yes, the grunt gave him bragging rights over the other southern royals, but now that bastard was threatening to ruin it all. Bad enough he lost the bout to Macht's jumped-up miner, but his little jailbreak was unacceptable. And the claims from his team that this jumped-up miner was leading an underground coup to overthrow…everything? Guiding Hand, he should have slaughtered them all years ago! He barely kept his thoughts from being grumbled out loud as he made his way through the system of catacombs that had been carved below the Onyx grounds millions of years ago. The chamber he sought was up ahead, two of his most trusted guards nodded as he approached through the dark corridor, their commanding officer, Full Tilt, was likely inside with the asset.

Ogrus stopped in front of the thick metal doors and allowed his frame to be scanned. Upon completion the doors opened and he entered the dimly lit chamber, the walls lined with state of the art computer arrays and the room cluttered with various bits of medical equipment. In the center was a large slab engulfed in a field of vaporous energon, resting on that slab was a frame that was maintained, but clearly unwell. Sitting just outside the field of energon gas was a large purple warrior seated in a chair, not yet realizing that Emir Onyx had entered the room. He leaned in close to frail patient on the slab and began singing in a soothing, velvety soft voice that bellied his imposing frame.

"The Knights saved us, the Great lord said,

of that, we all do know.

But you of their pool be mechs, not gods,

no right to keep lowborn low.

Those of the land, and those of a house,

be born of equal worth.

A mech's value set by words and deeds,

not by the spot of its birth.

We live by caste, with lords and serfs,

chose not of reason, but rote.

His voice was loud, his words were heard,

all people of the land took note.

The mighty must be dedicated to defend and free,

he loudly sent his call.

But the dragon lord of the Knightly Black house,

he was the mightiest of them all.

Hearing enough of such blasphemy,

the winged lord took flight.

With legions of beasts, stole o'er Tyrest

and delivered justice through the night.

Dawn came to reveal the righteous end,

vast fields covered in gore,

blue helms, chrome crests, red capes,

soaked in pools across the floor.

The Great lord's house reached too far,

challenging the Black House's right.

His calls for change answered solely by Death,

its convoys of beasts showing true might."

"I typically hear that song in a more upbeat tempo." Ogrus announced as he took a few steps forward to reveal he was in the room.

"Greetings my lord, Triptych here prefers a more ominous singing of the tome." The purple companion to the individual on the slab announced with a smile as he stood. "I was not aware you were planning on visiting."

"It wasn't on my itinerary, but something has occurred that prompted me to visit our friend." Ogrus replied with an uncharacteristic smile, a gruesome appearance to all but his most familiar acquaintances, and to even many of them it was an unpleasant site. "How is he today?"

The mild smile offered with the initial greeting fell from the purple face of the patient's companion and was replaced with a look of sadness. "He is awake and alert, and has been for over an hour now, but…"

"But I'm dying and you're simply wasting good energon prolonging the inevitable." A raspy voice growled out from the patient, who was facing away from the door.

Ogrus chuckled as he walked toward the chair that the purple robot had stood up from and nodded to the companion, who took the cue and nodded a farewell to both the patient and the Emir. Ogrus watched him leave through the doors that he had entered through as he lowered his large frame into the chair and then smiled upon the slender, ancient robot laid out in front of him. Claws mounted around his forearms and partially-identifiable mandibles on his shoulders and neck gave a hint to his long unused bestial alternate mode, and dimness of his pink optics revealed the ebbing of the life-force that was keeping his frame alive, but likely not for much longer. Leaders of House Onyx and those they trusted most had looked to this individual for millions of years and saw the proof of their species potential immortality. That was until ten thousand years ago, when even the oldest of their kind was stricken with a case of cybercrosis that even the greatest of physicians and mystics could not cure.

The innermost energon and transformation cog had gone long ago, but the immersion in a field of pure energon in its gaseous state had managed to slow the progress of the disease to a crawl, preserving his ability to move until recent years, and allowing him to keep his sight, hearing and memory even now. But the limits of this treatment were beginning to show, and it became obvious that this ancient Cybertronian had entered his final vorn. Ogrus reached into the energon field and gently gripped a feeble hand, recognizing that the patient likely couldn't feel the touch. "It pains me to see my once powerful teacher so ravaged by this horrific disease."

"It pains you?" The elderly robot spat out through a pained chuckle. "You should feel the pain it's causing me!" He rattled out a few more guffaws. "Bah, at least the pain will be ending soon, and perhaps I'll once again see my friend Saurus."

"I would love for such a reunion to occur, dear Triptych, but understand that one as valuable as you are is difficult to part with." Ogrus smiled. "You've lived for over seventeen million years. You are the only living Cybertronian to remember the rule of the demons with five faces, the insurrection that removed them from our world, the emergence of the sparkeaters and their beasts, and the age of darkness that followed. You were ancient when the Knights first crawled from their sacred pits and rallied the planet. The Knights are gone, the sparkeaters are gone, the driven demons are gone; only you remain, and the knowledge that only you possess must be held on to for as long as possible."

Pink optics rolled. "I've been listening to this platitude since before Saurus Onyx was born, twelve million years ago."

Ogrus let loose a low, throaty chuckle. "In all fairness, those that had lived five million years were far less common then than they are now."

"Bah." Triptych grumbled. "Just tell me of this occurrence that brought you here. And it better be good, for me to have given up on Full Tilt's company in favor of your scowling face."

Ogrus smiled and nodded. "Two occurrences in actuality." A hard look replaced the smile. "Grimlock's four mindless grunts intervened in his match with Megatron, disqualifying him and giving Macht's gladiator the victory."

"I thought they were competent and honorable warriors," Triptych replied with some confusion, "why would they do something so stupid?"

"It gets worse." Onyx grumbled. "They fled, battering guards, and nearly killing some of the personal guard of House Torrent that had pursued them, causing significant damage to Shockwave himself."

"They assaulted a royal?" The ailing robot asked in anger. "How dare they?"

"Grimlock's been champing at the bit to kill me since shortly after our first meeting." Ogrus answered, his face taking a look of deep introspection. "Assaulting royals has never been taboo with that one."

"Why was House Torrent involved?" Triptych asked. "And Lord Shockwave himself? What could possess him to go after the most powerful gladiator…well, the second most powerful gladiator on the planet?"

"He's still the most powerful gladiator on the planet!" Ogrus snapped. "He was giving every bit as good as he was getting when those four idiots jumped in!"

"Fine, fine," Triptych waved dismissively, he didn't care enough about the matter to sit through a rant, "all the more unusual for Lord Shockwave to go after Grimlock and his team himself. I've heard that he's physically imposing, could it have been an urge to test himself? He wouldn't be the first royal to pull that shit."

"I'm not sure, but Swoop tried telling me something during the skirmish, and the more I think about it, the less easy it is to dismiss." Ogrus commented. "He said that Megatron, Macht's champion,"

"I know who he is."

Ogrus smiled. "Of course. According to Swoop, Megatron has secretly been organizing…something, some sort of underground movement meant to tear down the royal and noble houses. That in and of itself isn't outlandish, what made me immediately discard it was that he claimed Shockwave and Starsceam were members of this movement."

"Royals? Granted, Starscream is of common birth,…though that should make him even more protective of his new station." Triptych commented.

"Starscream is an opportunist according to Swoop, and in that regard, I can only agree." Ogrus replied thoughtfully. "If Megatron looked as though he could successfully take us down, then Starscream would likely jump ship."

"An impossible scenario."

"Yes, unless he had some very significant help from some very powerful individuals," Onyx shrugged, "individuals like Shockwave or possibly Rabattus Decimus."

"Neither of whom are emirs, and it truly would require several emirs to have even a chance of toppling Cybertropolis and all the ruling Houses." Triptych muttered weakly. "It's unlikely, but at the same time, you'd be a fool to completely discount the possible threat."

"I agree." Ogrus nodded. "I don't know what I'll do yet, but rest assured, old friend, precautions will be taken."

"And the other occurrence?" Triptych asked, his pink optics narrowing.

Ogrus chuckled. "There was an archaeological dig in the boney wastes of central Nyon that uncovered a structure buried over fifteen hundred feet below the surface." The Emir on Nyon noted the sudden interest etched into the face of the elderly Triptych. "After hours of traveling through what appeared to be an interconnected web of tunnels, the archaeologists discovered a central chamber."

"By the Hand, they discovered one of the great beasts!" Triptych gasped.

"Great beasts?" Ogrus leaned forward, allowing his face to enter into the flowing energon gas. "The cyber-creatures that hunted the dracosaurs to extinction?"

"Aye." Triptych chuckled. "Though even my birth came long after these events. No, I only know of the tales, and the mobile cities made from their corpses."

"Cities made from their corpses?" Ogrus grumbled. "Why have I not heard of this before?"

"I've been telling the lords of House Onyx these tales since I first came into service to the original Onyx." Triptych muttered. "I thought I'd told you, but perhaps not."

"What cities, and what corpses?" Ogrus pressed impatiently.

"Well, three cities I knew of, and while I believe two were corpses, rumor was that one was alive, but kept subservient." Triptych tried to explain, his voice trailing off as he fell into the long lost era of his youth. "They were more intelligent, cyber-primates of sorts that were either lobotomized or subdued via torture and made into cities that could shift into mobile battle stations. They managed to subdue smaller but still giant creatures as well, molding them to better fit their needs."

"I should punish you for not revealing this to me before now." Ogrus grumbled, more serious than not.

Triptych's optics lazily locked onto those of Ogrus's. "You truly have not heard me relay these legends to you before?"

An impatient "No" was the reply.

Triptych huffed. "Fine, but let me start at the beginning, or at least a starting point well before these events. Millions of years prior to my birth, spark based life on our world was simpler, but in many cases, vastly larger and more powerful. A theory developed by…" a look of absolute hatred came over the face of the ancient, "a Urayan piece of shit who I will leave unnamed, was that the pulses of Vector Sigma began less than, well, at this point it would be fifty million years ago. They started out as rare but highly destructive events that gave rise to sparks of exceptional power. This Urayan highborn shit believed there were four classifications of sparks, the blue communia that you, me and all but a handful of our species possess, the green superious that Saurus, your Grimlock and precious few others were blessed with, and two others that apparently aren't produced any longer, the yellow numen which numbered to the green sparks as the green sparks number to the blue. It is my belief that the guardian that aided in the repulsing of the sparkeaters and who is still rumored to be at the Gates possesses one of these. The most powerful, and by far the most rare, were the orange ignis deva."

"And these cities, they were made up of creatures possessing ignis deva?" Ogrus questioned, his voice filled with awe.

"That's what I assume based on the theory and what I saw of these cities as a youngster. When I saw two of these cities, well one was a city, the other had transformed to its mobile battle station mode, anyway, when I saw them there was no indication of any sort of animal or humanoid mode." Triptych muttered.

"You saw these things?"

"Aye, my lord." The dying bot replied. "I walked through glistening Metroplex…though truth be told, only the heart of the city was the true Metroplex. The majority of the city was sections that had been built around it later. And the Quintaxium was a blue, gray and red masterpiece of power and destruction. According to legend, Metroplex was left a living, thinking slave, but the beasts that became the Quinaxium and the equally magnificent Imperexium were left brain dead by the alterations to make them more…useful, appealing, however the demons with five faces wanted them. But the dragon of Nyon, that was something different. They did manage to subdue it, for a time anyway, but as they attempted the alterations to its shell mode, the dragon became uncontrollable, too savage and mindless for them to contain or make use of. According to the legends I heard, it ravaged all of Nyon before finally being overwhelmed by everything the demons could muster to stand against it. So, after finally battering the dragon to near death, they sent a team inside its body, up to its cranium, and blasted its brain, killing it. Millions of years later there were legends to emerge of miners claiming to have seen the Heart of the Dragon, I assume they mean the spark of the great beast, but without a functioning brain module the spark would have ceased to exist, especially after all these millions of years."

Ogrus leaned back and smiled. "You seem so certain."

Triptych fixed an almost annoyed looking stare on Ogrus. "Meaning?"

"The chamber, the one that the archaeologists burrowed into," Ogrus leaned forward again, "it possessed a pulsing, viable spark. One bigger than some Cybertronians, and one that burned bright orange."

"The heart of the dragon?" Triptych gasped. "The beast lives!"

Roller Pax

The mass transport was packed almost shoulder to shoulder, a situation that the sparsely populated Torus Heights had not prepared Roller Pax for. Not that preparation was needed, being of House Pax he neither feared nor despised the commoners he was pushed up against, and crowded spaces appeared to have no ill effect on him, but it was a new experience none the less. The first transport out of Polarus was a small twelve seater, and even that was only a third full. The other three passengers recognized him immediately, though only one of them bothered to ask him why he would take common transport. He had explained that he was at odds with Emir Olnius, and that he had chosen not to use House transport as he wished not to have to explain himself to the elder Pax. Thinking back on the tale, Roller smiled and decided that it possessed enough truth so that he shouldn't have felt guilty, though ultimately it was a lie none the less.

The shuttle had landed in Burthov, where he had to disembark and board another, larger shuttle. This time the shuttle seated thirty, and was over half full, and this time only two of the other sixteen passengers recognized him, though the only indication they gave was a slight smile and subtly bowed heads. Living on the border with Nova Cronum, they were well aware of the tensions, and needed no explanation for why a Pax would want not to be recognized when traveling outside The Torus Heights. Roller thanked Primus for his youth as they entered Nova Cronum airspace; any other member of his house would have been recognized by those in and around Burthov, but at six years of age he not had time to become well known to those outside Polarus.

A few hours later they had landed in Pescus Hex, on the southwest shores of the Mithril Sea, and looked out at the dark water remembering the last time he had traveled over it, then like now deep within the borders of Nova Cronum, and he hoped that someday he could return to Avalonius, but this time with Orion, to show his brother the land of his birth. The reverie faded quickly as Roller remembered he was in the lands of his enemy. He needed to be wary, to keep his head down. All around him were loyal to the Honorums, and would happily reveal his presence in their lands. Not that traveling through Nova Cronum was illegal; perhaps traveling under the false identity that Dion had arranged for him was, but Roller simply being in Nova Cronum was not a violation. Officially House Pax and House Honorum were on good terms, but everyone knew of the tension. Sentinel Prime of House Honorum had murdered Arlon Pax; executed would be the term used here, an execution that was well deserved according to many here and in other emirates that had come to loathe Orion Pax and his Autobots for the terrorist acts they were believed to be responsible for.

Roller knew the Autobots were innocent. Initially he had considered the possibility that they were responsible for the attacks, he had even considered them a retaliation for his taking of Orion. But these were not actions that those Orion had pledged himself to, and Arlon had died for, could be capable of. They had been the greatest men he knew, and if the Autobots had gained their trust, they deserved his. But for now he needed to concern himself with the survival of House Pax and The Torus Heights. While subtle, Sentinel Prime had been positioning military assets near the border surrounding the Torus Heights, and Olnius Pax had done nothing to address or prepare for the threat. Right now the Honorums had not right nor reason to invade, but eventually something would come up that Sentinel could use as a pretext for war. It was only a matter of time.

The transport Roller had filed into in the Pescus Hex airport comfortably held sixty; by Roller's estimates there were over eighty mech's standing in the craft. The good news was that he hadn't seen a single individual look as though they recognized him. Within a few hours they were entering the airspace of The Decagon, and Roller felt a layer of anxiety roll off of him as they left Nova Cronum. It took a little over three hours to reach Dodacahex, where they funneled out. There were security officers marching through the crowd, but they didn't bother anyone. The Maximus's were isolationists and tried to keep their involvement in the outside world, and the outside world's involvement in the Decagon, to a minimum, and in Protihex the guards would likely have been more attentive to every detail of every visitor, but Dodacahex was over a thousand miles away from the emirate's capital city, and things were far more lax here. Roller had no concern of being recognized as he entered the fourth and final shuttle of his trip, the craft he currently found himself in. This final leg of the trip was another three hour jaunt, making the entire journey south a nearly nine hour venture. Ultimately it was good time given that he was traveling from the polar region to near the equator, but had he taken a transport ship of House Pax, it would have taken him half that time.

But secrecy was a must, and as he finally disembarked the ship and stepped out onto the metal ground of Hyperious, he locked optics on the one individual he expected to be recognized by. He walked through the crowd and finally stopped in front of the lean pink form. "Lady Elita."

"Lord Roller." Elita Solus replied. "It is good to see you again."

Roller nodded and smiled. "As it is for me to see you. Lady Torenia sends her love, or I'm certain she would if she knew I was here."

"Why are you here, Lord Pax?" Elita cut right to it. "And why ask me to meet you in secret."

"You know the answer to both questions." Roller replied as he walked toward the street, prompting her to walk alongside him. "You say he can be trusted, and we both know what problems it could cause were I seen doing business with him."

"He won't do business with you." Elita Solus replied as they reached the street, transformed and sped out into traffic. "In the last few years the admiration he held for your brother's cause shifted to devotion…at least it did after I convinced him they were not responsible for all that's happened. And let's just say that word has spread throughout your brother's cause that you are the one responsible for your brother no longer being part of that cause."

"And it didn't occur to you to convince him I was acting in Orion's best interest?" Roller asked through a short-distance communication frequency. As he did so he noticed a larger than average aviaton, its black and red form originally soaring high above them in the opposite direction, but it immediately cut back and continued on skirting the rooftops of the buildings they were driving past. The sudden course change was not unusual for aerial beasts, but it was still fun to watch, and Roller considered the reasons for why the bird had done so. Likely spotted prey, or seen a potential challenger approaching from the other direction. He devoted only a few seconds to this thinking before focusing back on his conversation. "Or that Orion was still alive?"

"No," Elita shot back, "it never occurred to me as I never thought it would be an issue. Frankly, I thought it best to keep any discussion regarding your brother to a minimum."

"Well, be prepared to speak on my behalf." Roller muttered. "He may be the only avenue left for House Pax to get the means to defend itself." Several minutes passed before they were finally stopping in front of a factory. Elita transformed to robot mode and Roller followed suit. "So this is it?"

"Just let me do the talking." Elita muttered as she walked up to the building and entered the front door. As they walked into the vast expanse, several workers turned to see who had entered, including a short orange robot who beamed at seeing Elita.

"My Lady!" The short robot exclaimed as he approached them, bowing gently.

"No need for formalities dear friend." Elita replied. "This is my friend," she watched as Erector turned to Roller Pax and displayed a broad smiile, "Roller." The smile faded in an instant. There was a long silence between them for a moment before Elita continued. "May we speak with you in private?"

Erector's optics remained affixed to Roller, almost glaring at him before he finally broke the gaze and turned back to Elita. "Of course, my lady." He led them up the stairs, through the hallway and into his office, closing the door behind them after they had all entered, and turned sharply to her. "Roller? As in Roller Pax?"

"Yes, I am Roller of House Pax." Roller answered despite not having the question asked of him.

"My lady," Erector stammered, "he is…it's him that's the reason…I have reason to believe that he may be…somehow…"

"I know you've become an Autobot." Elita interrupted. "I like to think I played a role in you going that route."

"I was already on that path," Erector replied, glaring agitatedly at Roller, "and regardless of what this one has told you, he is no friend to our cause. Why have you brought him here?"

"I wish to procure advanced weapons systems for the defense of The Torus Heights." Roller answered. "I was told you're one of the best smiths on the planet, and that you may be willing and able to assemble what we need and deliver them without being noticed."

"I'm doing nothing to aid you!" Erector spat at the northerner before turning back to Elita. "He betrayed his brother. He may have even murdered him."

"Bah, that's insane." Roller grumbled, earning him a look of anger from Elita.

"Yes, he took Orion, and did so against Orion's will, and had to subdue some Autobots in the process." Elita replied, noting the look of surprise on Erector's face. "Yes, Roller has told me of what happened. He also told me that a loyal servant of their House escorted Orion off-world for his own safety, and given the resources and dedication Sentinel Prime had devoted to finding Orion, being off-world may very well have been a necessary step in keeping him alive."

"He's a liar." Erector growled. "I am sorry to hear he has taken you in, my lady, but I will not believe him, nor will I arm his house."

"Erector, he is not lying." Elita attempted to sway the builder.

Erector glared hatefully into Roller's optics. "Perhaps it's best if you leave, Lord Pax."

"If that's what you wish, Erector." Roller nodded. "But first, may I make one more request? I recognize you're unwilling to produce large scale weapons systems, but would you be willing to produce a personal weapon? One that can fold up to be concealed within a frame?"

Erector laughed. "Are you serious?" He glanced over at Elita before turning back to Roller. "You really think I'd be willing to design a weapon that you can carry in secret and use for…whatever reason you see fit? What kind of weapon is this?" His mirthless chuckling continued.

"An ion cannon." Roller replied matter of factly, causing Erector's laughter to increase in volume.

"An ion cannon?" He spat out. "First of all, there's no way I would give a treacherous piece of kinslaying shit like you a weapon that powerful. Secondly, there's no way I could produce an ion cannon small enough for you to fit within your frame."

"It's not for my frame." Roller muttered as he pulled out a datapad and shoved it into Erector's hesitant hands.

Erector peered down at the pad and seemed confused. "You've designed a back-hatch to hold the weapon…and it's not a bad design. There's definitely room for improvement, but for one that's not an engineer, they're pretty good plans. As is, it just might work for a much larger frame."

"The frame dimensions are on there." Roller replied, prompting Erector to scrutinize the data pad further.

"Height, twenty two feet, two inches," Erector read off absently, "back width…eight feet, three inches?" Erector looked at Roller skeptically before looking back down at the pad and continuing. "Width at shoulders, thirteen feet, four inches! Waist of," he looked up at Roller again, "get the hell out, five and a half feet with a slow taper at the top and a rapid taper in the lower torso? By the Hand, mesomorph doesn't even come close to describing this. What is this guy, a slender seventeen footer armor-enhanced out the wazzoo?"

"That's his natural frame." Roller replied. "Only tires and motors have been added to it."

"Who the hell is built like…" he turned and looked at Elita.

Elita met his gaze with a smile and a nod. "I'd recommend a red coloration for the back compartment."

Roller stepped forward and placed his hand on Erector's shoulder. "I swear to you, sir, that I never have and never will act against my brother's best interests. But there are those that will, all of them well armed and powerful, and Orion Pax needs to be able to defend himself when he comes home."

Erector slowly turned his gaze from Elita and studied Roller's face. He studied it for many long seconds before finally nodding slowly. "Of course Lord Pax, I will make this my highest priority. Please provide me with the list of weaponry House Pax will require as well, and I'll see to it that The Torus Heights is defended."

Roller smiled into Erector's optics and gently squeezed his shoulder.

Bumblebee

He barreled through the hallway, turning corners too sharply, occasionally bouncing off the legs of comrades unfortunate enough to be striding into his path, who could only turn back at him as he sped away from them and curse him with whatever profanity was most popular in the regions they hailed from. Typically the incident would be forgotten by those he collided with, but unfortunately for Bumblebee, the recipient of his final bump prior to reaching his destination was Sunstreaker, who was not one to dismiss a slight or injury, no matter how insignificant. The round, disk-like yellow ground cruiser veered around the corner, skidded through the turn and banked off of the pristinely polished yellow leg of Sunstreaker. "Hey!"

"Sorry." Bumblebee muttered as he course corrected and continued on down the hallway.

"Get back here!" Sunstreaker bellowed after him.

"Can't," the smaller of the two yellow bots called back, "incoming call for the brass!"

"I said get back here!" Sunstreaker roared. "Now!" Bumblebee continued on, knowing that this would come back to haunt him later. Were Sideswipe here, there would be a chance of Sunstreaker being talked down and letting the incident go, but the red sibling wasn't around to sooth his brother, so this would fester until Sunstreaker was able to strike back in some way. "You've made the list, bitch!"

Up ahead was the makeshift command room of their latest headquarters, so he finally slowed, just enough to allow for a transformation, and was sent stumbling through the double doors of the well-lit but still depressing looking chamber. "Blaster, Perceptor, Hotspot,…"

"Not now Bumblebee." Perceptor replied dismissively before continuing what he was telling the other two as they were leaning over a small circular table in the center of the small, dimly lit room. "That's not an option. Even the few lowborn wealthy that believe us aren't willing to aid us out of fear of what would happen to them should they be discovered."

Blaster shook his head. "That's what you said before we approached Erec…"

"Hey!" Bumblebee snapped, causing the three to turn to him in agitated surprise. "This is important!"

The three exchanged a glance with one another before Blaster turned back to the small yellow bot and gave a broad grin, taking a step around the table to open up a space for the intruder. "Well, it had better be,…Bee." He noted the stares from his comrades at his hesitation at using a name that sounded identical to the verb that immediately preceded it.

Bumblebee hesitantly walked up to the table and jacked a cord from his wrist into a port on the center of the tabletop. "I've got Prowl on hold."

They all were stunned at the statement, peering intently at Bumblebee for a couple of seconds before Hotspot managed to spit a question out through his faceplate. "Theeee Prowl?"

"Yeah, theeee Prowl." Prowl's voice came through the speaker. "Spare Bumblebee any dirty looks, I'd have been able to contact any one of you if necessary; I've known where you've been at for a few weeks now. Bumblebee just happened to be the easiest to call."

"If you know where we are, why aren't we already in shackles being loaded into a wagon bound for dungeons or gallows or wherever?" Blaster grumbled, nodding to Hotspot, who immediately jumped toward the door to begin an emergency evacuation of the facility.

"Because I know you're innocent of the terrorist attacks." Prowl replied. "And the crimes that you are guilty of don't warrant the wrath Prime would bring down on you, so I've kept your current whereabouts to myself."

"That's very sweet of you." Blaster replied skeptically. "It's too bad that you can't convince Prime of our innocence."

"I tried; got me fired." Prowl responded.

"Sorry to hear that." Blaster answered almost absently as his fingers were a flurry of action, deleting data from the computer built into the table, Perceptor across from him doing the same thing. "Tough to be unemployed these days. At least you're not a commoner anymore, then you'd really be scraping away for energon."

"I am a commoner," Prowl explained, "my lands and titles were stripped along with my position. Though I managed to hold on to a few possessions I acquired back when I was somebody. Hoping I may have managed to hold on to a few contacts as well."

"I'm sure you'll find a way to come out on top." Blaster replied dismissively. "Frankly, I'm surprised Prime didn't have you locked away in addition to the shitcanning and stripping of your nobility."

"Look, I get that you don't have any reason to believe me, and understand the plan to stall me with chit-chat while you prepare to evacuate the facility and evade an assault you genuinely believe to be imminent," Prowl cut in, "but time is a factor so I need to cut to the chase. I've managed to get some information regarding the next planned attack you're going to get credit for. I'm not in a position to stop it, but perhaps your group is."

A look of cynical amusement came over Blaster's face. "You do realize I'm a bit skeptical to say the least, don't you?"

"Of course, but what you need to do is remind yourself that if I really wanted to apprehend you, I wouldn't need to set a trap in a busy city, I'd have just surrounded your position prior to calling you." Prowl replied. "Or to be more accurate, I wouldn't have bothered to call you at all."

"It's still too much for us to swallow." Blaster replied, looking up to see Hotspot re-enter the room, giving a nod indicating that the evacuation procedures were under way.

"Move!" An unknown voice grumbled through the speaker. "Hey, this is Grimlock, I'm sure someone in your group has heard of me."

"I've certainly heard of Grimlock." Blaster replied. "Damn near everyone has heard of the Simfurian juggernaut. Though I strongly doubt the real Grimlock would be hanging around Prowl."

"Yeah, it's been a turn of events, but trust me, I'm the only Grimlock." The deep voice came back. "There are a couple of Autobots I used to know, they fought on some of my undercards, claimed to be siblings, like genuine spark-spliced siblings. Sunstripe and Sweeper or something."

"Sideswipe is out on a reconnaissance mission, but Sunstreaker's in our location." Blaster replied, nodding to Hotspot to retrieve the yellow Autobot, who immediately disappeared into the hall. "Sending for him now."

A few moments later the quiet whir of motors could be heard followed by a transformation. Sunstreaker walked into the room, being sure to shoot Bumblebee a glare as he entered. "What?"

"You know Grimlock?" Blaster's question got a look of total surprise etched into Sunstreaker's handsome features.

"Uhh, yeah." Sunstreaker replied hesitantly as he approached the table. "Met him a couple times."

"You the red one or the yellow one?" Grimlock's voice blurted through the speaker.

"I'm the gorgeous one." Sunstreaker replied.

"OK, the vain yellow asshole, good, kind of liked you better." Grimlock replied. "You were part of Megatron's little conspiracy, his grand deception as he liked to call it."

"Yeah, he recruited us at the same time as you, remember?" Sunstreaker replied with a bit of sarcasm.

"That wasn't a question, now shut up and wait for the actual question." Grimlock grumbled back. "You ever hear any mention of actions they were planning on taking?"

Sunstreaker shrugged and shook his head, despite the fact that Grimlock had no way of seeing his reaction. "Naw, man, it was all just pie in the sky, someday shit. Build our support base, prepare, put assets in position, and then when we're ready, wham!" Sunstreaker punched his hand. "We strike against the high born, abolish the system, and set one up where the biggest contributors, regardless of where they were born, get to run the show. But we were decades away from being anywhere near that point. The only action we were ever told to perform was to try and recruit a cop. Megatron himself was involved, cop didn't want to join, threatened to take us down, locked horns with Megs, Megs won…barely, he was about to execute the cop until my brother stepped in and rescued the cop, making us persona non grata with the gladiatorial circuit, Swindle's crime syndicate, and most especially, Megatron." Sunstreaker explained before continuing with a grin and a joking tone. "So how have you been?"

"What do you mean won…barely?" Grimlock muttered.

"Cop was tough." Sunstreaker replied. "Bounced back, and tossed Sentinel Prime around a couple days later."

"Oh, that guy." Grimlock grumbled. "So Megatron wanted you on his team, but didn't trust you enough to make you aware of what he's really been up to."

"And what's that?" Sunstreaker asked, noting Blaster waving him to walk closer to him.

"Is it really Grimlock?" Blaster whispered.

Sunstreaker nodded a confirmation as Grimlock replied. "The terrorist attacks that have been blamed on you, those have been orchestrated by Megatron."

A look of surprise came over Sunstreaker. "Why the hell would he do that?"

"Misdirection." Blaster replied thoughtfully.

"As well as forcing the populace to question the competence of Sentinel Prime's government as the attacks continued to come." Prowl piped back in to offer. "My guess is that when Megatron is finally willing to go public, it will involve the perception that he and his movements finally put an end to the attacks. The public will be far more accepting of his new world order after he's become their savior."

"And the government hunting us down and slaughtering us in the process?" Perceptor asked.

"Not Megatron's problem." Grimlock grumbled. "You're just collateral damage in his grand deception."

"So where and when is this potential attack?" Blaster asked.

"Lower Petrex," Prowl replied, "about three hours from now."

"How do you know this?" Blaster asked. "I've eavesdropped on a few transmissions that led me to believe that Grimlock and his friends are just as 'non-grataed' with the fight circuit as Sunstreaker here."

"Let's just say a little bird told us." Grimlock replied.

"Look, I've already sent a head's up to a member of House Decimus, someone I know who wouldn't be involved in the murderous attacks." Prowl said.

The statement caused a confused look to come over Blaster, who looked to Sunstreaker for any possible explanation. Sunstreaker nodded. "Rumor is that Megatron is friends with Senator Rabattus Decimus."

"So hopefully the attack will be thwarted." Prowl continued. "This was merely a courtesy call to let you guys know you can possibly capitalize on this to take steps in clearing your name."

Blaster thought on that quietly before looking up at Perceptor. "Any indication that we're about to get a visit?"

Perceptor shook his head, his optics glued to the screen below him. "Nothing."

Blaster thought quietly for several more moments before finally replying to Prowl. "Do you have anything more specific regarding the attack, Prowl?"

"Knight Decimus Amphitheater of Lower Petrex, tonight during a performance of 'Rally At Ankmor'." Prowl replied.

"I hate that play." Blaster grumbled. "House Decimus propaganda."

"Well it's lower Petrex, so the majority of victims are going to be commoners." Prowl replied. "Bad taste or not, they're your people."

"There's no 'our people', there's just people." Blaster replied. "But yeah, either way, we need to do what we can to help." Blaster looked to Hotspot. "I don't trust this guy, so I'm only going to send one squad."

"Let me take First Aid, Streetwise and a couple others." Hotspot requested. "If Petrex security forces are involved, rescue, crowd control and medical skills will be more in need than fighters."

Blaster nodded. "Take them and three others. Bring both lethal and non-lethal firearms; non-lethal for law enforcement, lethal for the bad guys. We're not screwing around anymore."

"Understood." Hotspot replied.

"Then get moving, from here to Petrex is almost 3 hours if you take a shuttle. Don't get caught, killed or hurt…in that order."

"Aye, sir."

Junkyard

He couldn't believe the difference that had been made in just a few months. When he had last been in the city of Compostus Prime, the foundation for this 'hospital' had barely been laid. It was a project originating from the Pax Lo-Gar which Wreck Gar had agreed to, and which had gone up with extreme speed and efficiency, even by the standards of the fast working Junkions. It was an odd undertaking that met with a fair bit of resistance from the populace. For one, resources were limited, too limited for a structure such as this, according to many of the critics. Secondly, it seemed to run against their cultural identity; Junkions were the very essence of robustness and self-sufficiency, and prided themselves on being able to patch themselves together with whatever resources happened to be available. Junkions had no need for these hospitals. And finally, the fact that the idea originated from an off-worlder, one who would go on to design and oversee the construction of, even an off-worlder who had managed to garner the respect and trust of most Junkions, was more than a bit unsettling. Even Junkyard, who dealt with off-worlders with reasonable frequency, was still a bit uneasy around the Pax Lo-Gar.

To him, Orion Pax wasn't an off-worlder, he was a home-worlder. Most Junkions didn't appreciate the difference, but Junkyard was a trader, likely the only one that still made trips off world to trade with other-worlders. It was a real honor, and testament to the faith the Gar had in him that he was able to use the resources needed for off-world travel, but the faith was deserved. He always returned with far more than the trip consumed. He liked aliens, some of his happiest moments was in their company, on their ships or sometimes on their planets. But like any Junkion old enough to remember being a colony world, he had a great mis-trust and fear of Cybertron and those hailing from it. He had come to like Orion Pax, and had even felt him to be deserving of the role of Lo-Gar, but he still didn't fully trust the home-worlder, and likely never would.

But though he may be a bit apprehensive around the Pax Lo-Gar, he had to concede that the guy had been extremely efficient in getting this structure built. Junkyard transformed into his bi-wheeled ground cruiser mode and sped over to the group assembling in front of the almost completed hospital. There was the Pax Lo-Gar standing with two representatives of the Gar, Nan-Cee and Pinion, as well as prominent Compostus citizens Trashbin, Hazmat and Re-Cycle. Approaching them from the direction opposite Junkyard was Weirdal, the Lo-Gar of the Compostus sector, his large junk-hauling alternate mode kicking up refuse as he barreled toward them. Both he and Weirdal Lo-Gar reached the group at the same time, but the Lo-Gar was first to greet the assembled guests standing before over a hundred citizens there to attend the official opening of the hospital. "Da' ever cee, Nan-Cee! Welcome to Compostus Prime." He embraced the conjux of the Gar with a smile before nodding to the others in front of the hospital then looking to Junkyard. "Great you bein' on world, Junkyard. We have to 'iscuss your travelin' and what brought-back you have later." The two friends smiled at each other before Weirdal Lo-Gar turned to his fellow Lo-Gar. "Pax! Da' 'osptial bein' 'tacular! And so fast wit' da' finish!" The two shook wrists, and then Weirdal Lo-Gar turned to the assembled citizens. "Greetings, 'zens! Be thankin' you for coming! Momentous 'ccasion, 'ospital here to bein' fixin' severe hurts and breaks. Da' Weirdal don't be knowin' nuthin 'bout fixin, me be only good for one thing…garbage, but me trustin' da' Pax Lo-Gar, and him know thing 'bout fixin."

The crowd cheered at the short, simple speech, or at least most of the crowd was cheering. A group of four Junkions was pushing its way through to the front, and within a few moments the bulky, powerful forms of prominent Junkions from other sectors were standing before Weirdal Lo-Gar and the others. "The Pax knows more about re-colonizing than he does about fixing!" The hulking brown apparent leader of the group called out through his mouthplate. Everyone present recognized him to be Greasestain, Lo-Gar of the Piletian sector, and his comrades to be Hood, a prominent citizen of Compaxus Prime, Arclight, a prominent citizen of Jolappa Seven, and Wasteoid Gamma, a suspected criminal hailing from Lafilla Nine. "This abomination is an affront to Junk, its citizens and it's culture! The Gar has ordered that it be torn down, and that those who aided in its construction be slaughtered."

"You're telling us, Greasestain Lo-Gar, that the Gar ordered the murder of citizens?" The Pax Lo-Gar asked with a chuckle that clearly exhibited his disbelief in the statement.

"The Gar ordered the execution of traitors, Orion Pax of Cybertron!" Wasteoid Gamma barked out.

"Wreck Gar has ordered no such thing!" Nan-Cee snarled loud enough so that all present could hear. She knew that nobody on the stage in front of the hospital would entertain such considerations, but she wanted to reassure the crowd just in case some of them had doubts. "He approved and has fully endorsed this 'ospital!"

"The 'pinion of the traitor Wreck means nothin'!" The predominantly blue Hood snapped back. "He is no longer Gar of Junk!"

The Pax Lo-Gar groaned and stepped forward to the front edge of the stage. "So, Detritus has appointed himself Gar now, has he?" Pax asked, but continued speaking before anyone could answer. "Arclight, I have heard that you had a conjux endurae named Rubbish who died of a zero point twenty thousand years ago. Is this correct?"

"Do not dare to mention his name, Cybertronian!" Arclight snarled.

"Junkions, moreso than other races of our species, are better suited to undergo a complete body re-build than the rest of us, which is the only way to treat a zero point." Pax Lo-Gar continued, disregarding the threatening tone in Arclight's bark. "But it still is a major undertaking, requiring specialized equipment and materials not found within the junk piles of this planet. Had this hospital existed twenty thousand years ago, Rubbish would still be alive. Many Junkions who have passed would still be alive. This planet now has less than sixty remaining protoforms. There is no hyper dense energy cluster at the core of this world, no sparks will ever be produced here, these remaining protoforms are the last newborns you will ever have. You cannot maintain your birthrate beyond one more generation, for your race and your culture to continue to exist, you must drastically reduce your mortality rate. This is simple logic, simple math; it is not colonial propaganda."

"Enough!" Greasestain Lo-Gar roared. "Orion Pax of Cybertron is to be executed. Our orders are the execute the rest of you as well, but if you bend the knee and swear fealty to Detritus Gar, if you swear to fight with us and help us to remove Wreck from the throne of Junkion Prime, then you will be spared. It is an act of mercy I am offering, one that runs contrary to my orders, but I feel that if you prove yourselves loyal to your new and rightful ruler, he may not punish me too severely. This offer is good for a very limited time though, so choose wisely, but choose now."

"Let these people go." Pax Lo-Gar replied through his makeshift faceplate. "It is me you want, I'll remain, and once they're gone the four of you can try to kill me."

"Four of us?" Greasestain Lo-Gar asked with a wicked chuckled echoing through his own faceplate. He then sounded a horn build into his shoulder. In moments roughly twelve score of warriors on either side appeared on the ridges that surrounded the basin that the hospital was built in. "There are two hundred fifty of us here to kill you, Orion Pax!"

"My request goes unchanged." The Pax Lo-Gar called out loudly, not showing any sign of fear. "Allow these people to leave, and whether facing four or four hundred, I'll make no attempt to escape."

"Nay!" Weirdal Lo-Gar roared. "Pax Lo-Gar not stand alone!"

"Weirdal, do not be stupid!" Greasestain Lo-Gar snapped. "You need not die. Join us, Detritus will allow you to retain your title as Lo-Gar of Compostus. If you dare to oppose us, you will be killed."

"I dare to be stupid!" Weirdal Lo-Gar replied without a moment of hesitation.

"I stand with the Pax Lo-Gar as well!" Nan-Cee called out, causing Pax to turn and shake his head at her.

"No, Nan-Cee, you must escape." Pax whispered.

"Silence Orion." Nan-Cee whispered back with a smile. "Even the Gar can't tell me what to do."

"I stand with the Pax Lo-Gar!" Pinion, Trashbin, Hazmat and Re-Cycle all called out in unison.

Many of the citizens started walking forward, putting themselves between Greasestain Lo-Gar's group and the Pax Lo-Gar. Even Junkyard, who did not fully trust the Cybertronian, found himself walking and standing with them. Greasestain Lo-Gar glared at them all and stepped forward, turning to the group that had not stepped forward, mostly fearful citizens who had no desire to be involved in this in any way. "They have made their choice. You have not, not yet anyway. Bend the knee, take your place at the sides of our warriors, take a weapon, and help us kill these traitors to Junk! Do it now, or you will be cut to corpses along with the rest of them. My soldiers have already surrounded this position, there is no escape. You are either with us, or you are with them."

"Citizens," the Pax Lo-Gar called out with a voice like thunder, "those able and willing to fight with us, line up with us before the main hospital entrance! Those unable or unwilling, get inside the hospital! We will protect you! Do it now!" The moment his voice went silent, the trampling of garbage by hundreds of feet echoed off the ravine walls as the vast majority of the civilians charged toward the entrance to the hospital. When all was done, thirty-five of the civilians remained outside to fight alongside the Pax Lo-Gar, while twenty had gone up the ridges to join the forces loyal to Detritus Gar; the rest were inside, fearfully peering out through the windows. Pax Lo-Gar looked to those standing with him. "I thank you for standing with me, you all have tremendous courage. Please sort through the debris and find whatever you can to use as a weapon." Pax then reached behind his back and pulled out a large, dual-bladed battle axe.

"You will die today, Orion Pax," Greasestain Lo-Gar called out as he and the other three with him backed up to fall into their advancing force, "Detritus Gar's only regret is that he isn't here to kill you himself!"

"No, Detritus's regret is that he is physically incapable of killing me himself!" Orion called back loudly. He then looked over the army arrayed against him. "Citizens of Junk, I am Orion Pax of The Torus Heights of Cybertron, named Lo-Gar of Sector Refurbia by Wreck Gar, the rightful Gar of Junk! I understand you have points of contention with some of his decisions, mostly related to me, and disagreeing with his decisions is your right! Expressing your dissatisfaction is your right! Armed insurrection is NOT your right! Murdering civilians is most definitely NOT your right! Throw down your weapons, return home, seek new leadership through legal and peaceful means if you must, but do not remain here! I have no desire to hurt any of you, but if you pose a threat to those standing with me to preserve the law and those we are protecting, I will use any means at my disposal to stop you! If that means killing you, all of you, then so be it!" Roughly half of the warriors assembled against him were silently awed, the other half, including Greasestain Lo-Gar, Hood, Arclight and Wasteoid Gamma, slowly burst into laughter.

"We outnumber you five to one, Pax!" Greasestain Lo-Gar yelled back. "And our soldiers ARE soldiers! None of you know the first thing about fighting!"

The Pax Lo-Gar's optics narrowed and he tightened his grip on his axe with his right hand while adjusting his faceplate to be more secure with his left. "Trust me, Greasestain, I know a few things about fighting."

Greasestain Lo-Gar nodded, then turned his head over his left shoulder to call out to those behind him. "Kill them all!" He roared. The thunder of hundreds of feet tearing down toward the hospital was deafening,

"Form a wedge on me!" Pax Lo-Gar roared out over the sound of trampling. "Force them out to the sides, away from the doors! They mean to kill you, then to kill those inside, then move on to kill others who would not join them! There is no negotiating with them, no reasoning, no pleading! They will kill you no matter what you do or say! Your only choice is to strike back! Do not hesitate to kill those that are intent on killing you and the innocents you are defending!"

"Aye!" Weirdal Lo-Gar called out, his voice barely audible over the roar of the quickly approaching two hundred fifty warriors bearing down on them. A moment later the wave of charging Junkions slammed into them, barreling most of the defenders over. Junkyard managed to thrust a spear he had managed to make from an old rusty pole into the throat of one of the oncoming warriors, but that didn't keep him from getting bowled over by the surge. He struggled against two murderous soldiers that were on top of him, he felt his face getting pushed into the sludge beneath him, he felt a blade cut into his side, then withdraw, and he managed to see that blade being positioned over his chest. It would only be a moment before it would be driven into his spark chamber, its wielder's maniacal optics flaring wildly as he was about to end Junkyard's life, but those optics went dark as the head they were embedded in went sailing into the air. Junkyard turned his head sharply to see the blades of Pax Lo-Gar's axe whipping away from his almost-murderer, then to Pax Lo-Gar's body as he was yanking up Junkyard's other assailant with his free hand and hurtling him back over the horde of marauding soldiers.

Junkyard forced himself to get up, struggling through the shoves and weight of bodies pressing from all sides. He looked down to see the dagger still in the hand of the decapitated soldier that had tried to kill him, and pulled that free. He saw three warriors assailing Nan-Cee, and charged to her aid, plunging his blade through the back of the neck of the nearest attacker. The attacker gasped, sending blobs of fluid out of his mouth and catching the attention of his comrade next to him, who turned and sliced at Junkyard with his short-sword, cutting a deep gouge into his cheek. Junkyard pulled his dagger free and thrust it at the other attacker, who parried the thrust and stabbed Junkyard in the belly. Junkyard gasped, but instinctively drove his dagger up, catching the other fighter under his lower jaw, and driving it up into his cranial shell, killing him. The warrior fell, leaving his short sword sticking out of Junkyard's stomach.

Junkyard reached down and pulled it out, a spurt of energon mixed with mech fluid shot out onto the corpse of the one that had stabbed him, and almost through a haze he looked over and watched Nan-Cee struggling against her last assailant. Junkyard stepped to intervene once again, but another wave of attackers overwhelmed him and sent him down to the ground. He didn't know what was happening, how many there were, where they were positioned on him, he only knew his limbs were pinned down by the weight of multiple bodies, he was unable to move them or anything other than his head, and that he was feeling the occasional stab into his lower torso. He gritted his teeth through the pain, and looked over to see Nan-Cee on the ground as well. She was no longer fighting one attacker, but now several were on her, slamming fists into her head. She winced with each blow, but refused to give them the pleasure of crying out in pain. Junkyard could only watch as the tip of a spear was driven into her shoulder, the laughter of the monster wielding it cutting through the cacophony of chaos around them. Even then, Nan-Cee refused to cry out in pain. The laughing bastard pulled the spear free and then without any warning whatsoever, drove it down through Nan-Cee's left optic and into her cranial shell. Her face went blank, the only movement her body made was caused others pushing against her, and when her murdered pulled his spear out of her head, causing it to lift and drop back to the ground with a thud.

An enraged roar preceded another thud, one caused by a fist slamming into the back of Nan-Cee's killer with such force that a dent in the shape of a spark chamber pressed out from front of his chest. The killer was in shock from the pain, and could not even turn to see the blade that came down and cut him in two from left clavicle to crotch. His two sides fell away from each other revealing an outraged Pax Lo-Gar. He quickly bent over to examine Nan-Cee, ignoring the blows hammering down on him from all sides. Junkyard felt the weight on him lessen to the point of non-existence as his attackers got off of him to attack Pax. At confirming that Nan-Cee was dead, Orion Pax of The Torus Heights of Cybertron, Lo-Gar of Reburbia, exploded into a blur of life-ending motion. His axe mowed through wave after wave of attacker. Were it wielded by anyone else, it would have been a poor choice in such close quarters combat, but his strength was such that those pressed against him were easily pushed back to a distance suitable for swinging his axe.

Due to the pain, the psychological shock of what was happening, or both, Junkyard was in a haze as he watched the home-worlder cut through the enemy forces. A handful of dead marauders in Pax's wake quickly turned to a dozen, then two dozen. Wave after wave of warrior charged him, a few getting past his axe, some even landing blows that would have laid low anyone else, but the Pax Lo-Gar wasn't slowed in the least. Finally the hulking Wasteoid Gamma appeared, the soldiers parting aside to allow him to face the Pax Lo-Gar alone. "Alright, Shitbag, time to put your homeworld ass down." Wasteoid Gamma threatened before charging. Pax Lo-Gar didn't even bother using his axe, catching the handle of Wasteoid Gamma's oncoming axe, pulling it aside, and delivering a head-butt to Wasteoid Gamma's nose that damn near forced it to point inward. Pax then drove the bottom of his axe handle into Wasteoid Gamma's optic, pushed it in deep, and then used it to hoist him up and flip him over onto the ground behind him. He then stomped down hard on his face, crushing his head and leaving the criminal's body twitching in the fluid-soaked ground.

Pax then whipped around and glared at the army standing against him, now a third the size it had originally been due primarily to his efforts. "Greasestain!" At his roar the opposing army looked within its own ranks, eventually finding their commanding officer standing back next to Arclight and Hood. "Face me, coward! Deliver on your promise to Detritus! Bring him my head!"

The sounds of battle quickly faced and all optics turned to Greasestain, who took a step forward, smiled malevolently at Pax, but then transformed to a dual-wheeled attack cruiser and quickly turned, speeding away. Arclight and Hood followed suit, followed shortly by the majority of what was left of their army. Only those who had been conscripted from the original crowd of civilians remained, and they were quick to drop their weapons to the ground. The Pax Lo-Gar watched the original ravagers flee and felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He turned to look into the optics of Weirdal Lo-Gar, one of the few bots capable of looking down on Pax, and even then he was barely a foot taller. Weirdal Lo-Gar was missing his other arm and battered severely on every part of his body that was still attached. "Well job, Pax, we won."

"One battle." Pax Lo-Gar muttered in reply. "The first battle in a war. A war that may very well bring about the end of Junk." He then turned and walked over to Nan-Cee's body. "I need to return her to our Gar." He carefully lifted her off the ground and carried her into the hospital, presumably to wash the body, passing through dozens of civilians who were hesitantly exiting, all making way for Nan-Cee, and soon the three dozen others who had fallen to save them. Three of them ran directly to Junkyard, who was just now noticing the intense pain coming from all over his body. They lifted him, muttered assurances to him, but all he could do was watch the lifeless head of the Gar's conjux endurae bobbing with each step the Pax Lo-Gar took.

Runabout

What a screw up. He'd been doing this shit for years without any sort of hitch, then he's thrown in with four guys he's never worked with before for a simple 'plant and detonate' job in Ankmor. No sooner had they gotten within a mile of the amphitheater than they were told to pull over and allow for a search of their persons as well as the trailer that this Clench was hauling by two badged shitbags. To hell with that, they hadn't been told to put any effort into hiding the explosives, that crap was just laying out on the floor of the trailer, so half a second later Runabout was in robot stabbing one Petrex flatfoot in the neck and blasting his partner in the face from point blank range. Yeah, there were witnesses, but these prissy northern bitches wouldn't do squat, just call it in and wait for other cops to arrive. So they'd just plant the explosives a bit early, detonate a bit early, and while the body count wouldn't be what they were hoping for, it ultimately didn't matter. It'd be another attack that would undermine the powers that be and keep them focused on those pissants with the Common Man face branded into them. No big deal.

But that's when everything went to shit. Runabout figured that these two coppers would be the only ones within ten miles; it's not like they were near anything important, these were the slums of Lower Petrex. But no, the moment the second cop hit the ground security officers were swarming in around them, and not just the local pigs, no, there was House Decimus security forces charging in, weapons blazing. Of course, while they had the numbers, they were completely unprepared for the likes of them. Dead End, Ruckus, Wildrider and Clench transformed, as did Clench's trailer, which to Runabout's surprise had a mounted dual-barreled rocket launcher within it. And that big bastard Clench certainly knew how to use it, as he was decimating the Decimus's in short order. Of the initial wave of security forces, only one big bruiser and one little twerp were left, the big bastard having shrugged off the explosion of his comrade next to him who had taken a round from Clench's launcher dead center in his chest and had the wherewithal to dive for cover behind a building, and the little bastard transformed to dual-wheel speeder mode and zipped down an alley. Both were now taking pot-shots at them, keeping Runabout and his group from getting to the amphitheater.

"There!" A voice called out from the street above, causing Clench to direct his fire up toward its source. Several security goons and a shiny, prissy looking blue and white bot dove away from the edge of the street just as it exploded. Chunks of street started raining down on them along with return fire, forcing Runabout and his crew to take cover as well. After an initial barrage the voice called back out again. "Surrender, you are outnumbered! I, Mirage of House Decimus, give you my word that you will be taken alive and unharmed if you stand down!"

"Lord Decimus, leave their apprehension to us!" The big bruiser from the first wave of security shlubs called back up to his boss.

"Rook, who from your squad still remain?" Mirage yelled back down, ignoring the suggestion of withdrawing.

"Myself and Groove, my lord!" Rook called back. "The rest were laid low by that cannon."

"You're all gonna be laid low, you highborn shit!" Clench, staying in character, barked out. "You and these agents of inequity! The Autobots will stop at nothing to kill you all!" Clench was about to followed the threat with another barrage sent up at Lord Decimus, but ordinance coming from behind them slamming into his cannon kept him from doing so.

"You are NOT Autobots, deceivers!" A lean white and black robot called out, he was in a crouched position, likely due to having just transformed, but his pistol was in hand and smoking as just having been fired. And emblazoned clearly on his abdomen was the face of the Common Man; well, it was about time the real Autobots caught up to them. Between this guy and Runabout's group were two ground racers speeding toward them, one ultra-sleek and yellow, the other blue, red and more rounded. "Sunstreaker, take the big one! Smokescreen, take…well, take another one."

The yellow one must have been Sunstreaker, because he shot toward Clench, bounced into the air, transformed and laid into the big guy. And this Sunstreaker wasn't a half bad brawler, he landed shot after shot against the big guy before Clench's strength overwhelmed him and he flung that pretty yellow shit across the street. Runabout then turned to the red and blue one, who had also transformed and was trading blows with Wildrider, and while he wasn't bad, he was nowhere near as good as his yellow friend. Wildrider was quickly getting the better of this Smokescreen, but they all started taking fire from the Decimus forces once again. Clench started toward his cannon again, but turned at the sound of a large vehicle bearing down on him.

A large, light blue emergency and rescue vehicle slammed into his mounted cannon at full speed, snapping the weapon from its mount and rendering it inoperable. Clench pushed the transforming vehicle aside and reached down into the base of his weapons mount, lifting up the container of explosives that had been intended for the Knight Decimus Amphitheater. Little chance of getting them there now, Clench was probably right to use them here and now, but before he could even get them out of the container rounds from the lean white Autobot tore through his wrists and hands, forcing him to drop the explosives.

Runabout turned to see that the big security officer, the one named Rook, was already out and slugging away at Ruckus. Ruckus was one of the toughest bastards Runabout knew, but he was put on the defensive by the bulking white and blue officer's powerful strikes. "Clench, we need to get the hell out of here!" Dead End called out. The depressing shit was right, they were already being held in check and it was only going to get worse for them.

"Yeah, I know, Autobots, retreat!" Clench roared out.

"You're not Autobots!" The white and black one yelled back, a bulky red and white robot now next to him, looking on at the field of battle. Runabout quickly transformed and sped away, past these two Autobots and down the street, away from the Decimus security forces and the Autobots. Sirens could be heard in the distance, but Runabout, Wildrider, Dead End, Ruckus and the now trailer-less Clench would have little trouble getting away from them.

"You, Sunstreaker, stay where you are!" He heard Mirage yell out in what sounded like rage, but he couldn't stick around to see how that turned out.

Glyph

What was all the commotion out there? Glyph fully ended her dormancy cycle and lifted her frame off the ground to stand fully upright in her tent. She walked outside to see a large group of robots and equipment of varying sizes and functions laid out all over the area around the dig site. Most of the robots were looking to one large individual with draconic features sauntering through the site as if he owned it. He looked into the cavern where the find remained buried, and grinning broadly as he gazed into the darkness. Six large robots of uniform lime green and purple coloration approached him and reached him before Glyph had a chance to get to him. He turned and looked at the robots. "Ah, wonderful, Lord Soundwave told me you would be coming, Lord Narkissos and Lord Masonus. I appreciate you getting here so quickly."

The six robots all bowed, and one with a wide shovel mounted on his back replied. "Lord Soundwave greatly values his friendship with House Onyx, Emir Ogrus, and feels that we will be of great service to you in this endeavor."

"What endeavor? What is going on here?" Glyph barked as she reached the group.

"Mind your tone, femme." A tall member of the green and purple group snarled at her. His arrogant sneer and superior attitude enraged her further, but not as much as his abrupt turning of his back toward her, leaving her to glare at the long crane hanging down from his upper back.

"No, that's quite alright, Lord Narkissos, Glyph of Hyperious here is to be both celebrated and given leeway." The hulking beast of a robot replied with a charm that existed nowhere outside of his voice. "After all, she is the reason we are all here." He smiled down at her, sharp fangs lining his mouth. "I am Emir Ogrus Onyx, and this land, and all on it and under it, is mine. You did not know that before, you your little demanding outburst will be forgiven, but you know it now, so I suggest you mind your tone."

A deep fear rose up in Glyph, but it did not completely supplant the anger she was feeling at what she knew was a usurping of her find. "I apologize if I've offended you, Emir Macht, but per planetary archeological guidelines, any intrusions into dig sites outside of emergency situations must be submitted to the scholarly body in charge of the dig six days in advance."

Ogrus Onyx simply maintained his stare at her for a moment before turning back to the other six robots, replying to her without even looking at her. "I'll deal with you in just a moment my dear. Hook, Scrapper, this is what I would like for your team to create." The hulking emir pulled a holo-cube out from a compartment in his side and activated it, projecting the holographic image of a vast fortress. "Fortress Trypticon, the symbol of Nyonian might, the greatest fortress of all time, constructed by the legendary Saurus Onyx who named it after his teacher and friend. I want you to turn that…" Emir Onyx pointed into the ground, "into this. Can you gentlemen do that?"

The one with the wide shovel mounted to his back leaned forward and studied the holographic image. "We'll need a full set of blueprints if you're after a complete recreation, and we'll need to verify that the structure below has a comparable mass and consists of material adequate for such a project, but assuming these things to be the case, sure, I don't see this being a problem."

"No, absolutely not!" Glyph protested, but was ignored.

"Oh, and should you find anything that seems…anatomical," Ogrus continued, "do not do anything to damage it."

"I said stop!" Glyph yelled, attracting other members of her archeological team.

"Anatomical?" The robot with a crane attached to his back asked incredulously. "What exactly is that down there?"

"I'm not entirely sure, but I do have a guess." Emir Onyx replied with a grin as Tap Out and other members of Glyph's team arrived. "Just come to me with any unusual discoveries before doing anything potentially damaging."

"What's going on here?" Tap Out asked, glaring up at the much larger robots in front of him.

Ogrus Onyx finally turned away from the green and purple robots and looked out over the archeological team. He then peered directly at Glyph. "Is this all of them?"

Glyph peered back questioningly at the hulking draconian emir. "What?"

"Yes, Emir Onyx." Glyph turned to see it was Rage who had responded to the question. She then watched as Rage turned to soldiers who were watching from a distance and nod to them, prompting them to approach and draw their weapons into their hands.

"Good." Ogrus Onyx replied. "All of them." He smiled at Glyph. "Now."

"Yes, my emir." Rage replied. Glyph heard firearms erupt all around her, and turned to see her group being cut down. She looked to Tap Out, who was charging Rage, but he charge was cut short as multiple shots sent him to the metal ground. He painfully turned his head to look up into Glyph's optics, and she could only watch in horror as the light slowly faded from them. She noticed movement near her and turned her head toward it, just in time to see Rage driving a dagger into her optic.


	14. Chapter 14

Torenia Pax

The snows were beginning to fall, just as they were when she set foot on the shores of The Torus Heights and began her trek home with Orion fifteen years before. Not fifteen years to the day, no, fifteen years ago today she was on a boat, deep within the borders of Nova Cronum, still within the maritime borders of Iacon. The boat was doomed, but the day was a blessed one despite that…because of that. She smiled at the memory of trudging through the jungles of Insula Avalonius, and of seeing the odd green glow beckoning her to a cavern, and changing her life. She watched the snowflakes tumble through the gray sky above from behind the window of the viewing deck overlooking the main courtyard, letting her mind fill with memories of a child she hadn't seen in over fourteen years…a child who today was no longer a child, provided he still lived. She winced at the possibility of Orion no longer being functional, and welcomed the sounds of an approaching vehicle to distract her from such thoughts.

The central tunnel, one of nine leading from the main courtyard to the outer regions of Tyger Pax, glowed from within, illuminated by the lights of the vehicle or cybertronian approaching. She hoped it was him; he'd promised her he'd not only be here today, but arrive before the noon hour, and as the wedged front end of the small blue vehicle emerged from the tunnel, she smiled broadly. Roller, her other child, was back, and true to his word, had arrived with nearly thirty minutes to spare before hitting mid-day. A look of uncertainty bordering on disapproval came over her face as she took note of the forty-eight foot trailer attached to his rear section. He had no problem handling it, but he did look far too small to be hauling such a large container. Following the trailer were Constable Ironhide and Dion, who despite his checkered past and questionable present dealings, had proven to be one of Roller's closest and most loyal friends and confidants; and that was only from what Torenia had been able to witness between the two. Torenia was well aware that much of what they were involved with was being kept from her. Loronus Pax, Stronghold Pax, Impactor and Inferno walked out to greet them, and Torenia turned away from the window and set out toward the stairs to do the same.

Though summer was coming to an end, it was still warm enough, even this far north, so that the snowflakes were sparse and were melting the moment they touched the ground, making the layers of dirt covering the metal and stone softer, but not quite muddy. Torenia walked over the dirt and metal toward the group gathered in front of the trailer, conspiring in their whispers about the defense of The Torus Heights and what they felt to be best for the polar emirate no doubt. Their conversation ceased as they caught sight of her approaching, and after a quick nod to Impactor prompting the guard, Dion and Inferno to attend to the trailer, Roller beamed a broad smile at Torenia and walked toward her. "I told you I'd be here, though I don't understand why you were so insistent that I return home." He said as he wrapped her in a tight embrace.

She squeezed him as hard as she could. He was no bigger than he had ever been, but he was an adult now, and seemed every bit the grown up. "You know full well why I insisted you be here today." She stated as she held him. "You had better be here for your fifteenth birthday! You are now of the age to determine your own path, not that you haven't been doing that since day one." She grumbled as she finally released the embrace, but still held his arms gently looking into his optics lovingly. She then glanced to the trailer being led away from them toward one of the side tunnels. "Do I want to know what you have in there?"

Roller chuckled lightly. "Probably not. Though it's less about what's inside than what it is."

"Mmm-hmmm." Torenia shook her head. "Another gift from your friend in Hyperious? I thought you were told explicitly that these little smuggling ventures were to cease."

"Olnius can't forbid me from traveling…or having possessions." Roller grinned unconvincingly.

"He is our emir, so yes, he can." Torenia replied.

"He is weak, and insists we do nothing as Nova Cronum amasses weapons and soldiers along our border." Roller replied with venom. "He chooses to keep his head in the snow as our enemies have been tightening the noose around our necks for fourteen years. The same enemies that cut Arlon's head from his body!" The former minor, now adult turned to Stronghold and Loronus. "On this we are all in agreement. Why neither of you have stepped up to run against Olnius…" Roller shook his head disappointedly, "we need a new emir."

"Sorry lad, I've not the disposition for leadership." Stronghold replied with a grin before nodding to Loronus. "And this once lacks the mettle for it."

"Silence you big dumb bore-slug, I've mettle aplenty, tis interest I lack." The lean, solemn Loronus replied with an uncharacteristic grin.

Roller stared heatedly at them. "Too much is at stake to use discomfort as a shield against responsibility."

"Ah, he truly is an adult today." Stronghold laughed, dismissing Roller's stern disapproval.

"Bah, he's been yapping at us like that for years." Loronus replied with another grin, sending a knowing look to Stronghold before turning to Ironhide. "Thank you for escorting Lord Roller back to Tyger Pax, Constable."

"It's always a pleasure ta' serve House Pax." Ironhide replied. "But Lord Pax, please be advised that whatever leeway ya' may have seen should ya' have been caught doin' whatever ya' was doin' over the years, it's now gone. You're an adult now; Sentinel Prahme is well aware of that, and will see to it that ya' are scrutinized and prosecuted as such should ya' ever git caught breakin' the law."

"Duly noted." Roller nodded, then smiled. "Kind of why I chose to do the transporting of this trailer through Axiom and Nova Cronum prior to today."

Torenia gave a stern, secretive glance to Stronghold and Loronus, who nodded behind Roller's back and headed into the building she had exited from moments before. Roller watched their departure with a confused glance, and Torenia reached forward and gently squeezed his arm to draw his attention back to her. "I hope you had a chance to visit with Lady Elita while in Hyperious."

Roller looked at her and smiled. "Not this time. Frankly, we don't have much in common; the one thing we do have in common only brings tension between she and I." Torenia's optics lowered to the ground as her thoughts once more went to the long-missing Orion. "As it brings tension between the two of us."

Still looking at the ground, Torenia shook her head as an edge came to her voice. "You and A-Three assumed you knew what was best and did…whatever it was that you did without consulting me, or anyone else."

"We had to."

"No!" Her optic shot up and locked onto his. "No. Arlon Pax did not run from his problems! Orion Pax would not run from his problems!"

"I swear to you, Lady Torenia, that Emir Arlon would have made the same choice A-Three and I made were he privy to the knowledge that A-Three possessed." Roller replied.

Torenia glared disbelievingly at Roller. "Then why didn't you tell him?"

Roller shook his head and shrugged. "I was not informed until after Arlon was dead, and A-Three…I cannot say why A-Three does what he does, or does not do." He looked imploringly into her optics. "Please know that it was necessary. Sentinel Prime will stop at nothing to see Orion killed, and not just because of what occurred at the trial. He has another reason to want Orion dead."

"What reason?" Torenia snarled. "How could anyone want Orion dead? What could he have done?"

Roller looked deeply at Torenia, considering something before replying. "I cannot say, my lady. Please, you are better off not knowing, just know that it is not due to any wrong Orion has ever committed. Truth be told, I don't believe Orion capable of committing a wrong."

Torenia held his gaze for a moment before turning away defeated. A moment later a pained smile came to her face. "Oh, I remember hearing something about lying to get into a pub, and a little something about a bar fight."

Roller laughed. "That was a fun night." His optics dropped and the mirth faded. "I suppose he and I could walk freely into a pub now."

"I wish he were here for the two of you to do so." Torenia sadly added. "I'd love to join you, maybe get to see him knock Lugnut Boltax offline with my own optics this time."

"It was quite a sight." Roller replied. "I don't know where A-Three took him. If I did…I probably wouldn't retrieve him, not now…not if where he's at is safe."

"I suppose, were I in your position, I'd probably do the same." Torenia finally conceded, wrapping her arm around Roller's shoulders. "But I do miss him terribly."

"As do I, my lady." Roller replied, allowing Torenia to lead him into the building. "So how have things been here? It's been almost two months since I've been back."

"Tense, but that's no different from when you left." Torenia replied as she led him through the halls toward the center of the vast complex, the Sanctum of Tyger Pax. "As you're more aware than anyone else, Sentinel Prime has surrounded us. He's been using primarily House Honorum soldiers and weaponry, so he claims it's not his doing and is out of his hands. Of course, when Olnius tries to contact Emir Acumenus, he's never able to get through."

"Sentinel Honorum is responsible, he's simply using Acumenus as a puppet." Roller grumbled. "We're well within our rights to mount weapons and position soldiers of our own across from their positions."

"Olnius fears that will antagonize things and prompt an act of aggression." They turned down another hallway, nodding to a pair of servants that passed them. "He's aware of some of your little escapades. I don't believe he has any idea of the extent of your smuggling operation, but he knows you've been up to something and that it's been going on for many years."

"You don't have any idea of the extent of my smuggling operation." Roller laughed. "I'll schedule some time for him to chew me out while I'm here."

"You're an adult now," Torenia looked at him worriedly, "he can take very real action against you now. If you push him too far, he can push for a vote to banish you from House Pax."

"Let him." Roller scoffed. "He needs an eighty percent vote. He couldn't get a third of that."

"I know, and I thank Primus for that." Torenia replied. "But he IS the emir of The Torus Heights and the head of House Pax. He can still strip you of all authority, all privileges, and block you from House assets."

"He blocked me from House assets years ago." Roller replied as they approached the large, ornate double doors that led into the Sanctum, where only members of House Pax and few select servants could enter. "Fortunately there are those loyal to The Torus Heights willing to fund…well, best you not know." Roller reached forward and opened the doors.

"SURPRISE!" The assembled members of House Pax all called out in unison.

Roller smiled at them and then looked over at Torenia. "I suppose I should have seen this coming, but I genuinely didn't."

"Sure you didn't, you goofy blue shit." The grinning Gantor Pax muttered sarcastically as he walked over to Roller and slapped his shoulder.

"Welcome to adulthood kid." Scorcher Pax approached and handed a cup of mildly tainted engex to Roller.

The party went on for over an hour before Emir Olnius finally made his way to talk to Roller. As Roller smiled and nodded politely, Torenia placed herself close enough to listen without being noticed. "Emir Pax, it is good to see you again."

Olnius met the smile. He had always been good natured and friendly, but the weight of ruling the House and the emirate had weighed on him terribly. The execution of his predecessor, a Pax beloved by all, had left him with impossibly big shoes to fill, and the tension that had existed between The Torus Heights and Nova Cronum, as well as Prime's planetary government, at the time of his appointment had progressively deteriorated over the fourteen years since then, due in no small part to Roller's outspoken criticism of Sentinel Prime and his less than subtle but still unconfirmed efforts to bring arms into the emirate. It was miraculous that he'd never been caught, but it was only a matter of time before he was, and now that he had reached the age of self-determination and was an adult, his actions would not be dismissible and attributable to youth. "Congratulations, Roller. It seems like only yesterday that Parcher Pax was pulling you out of our hotspot."

"I guess it's been an uneventful decade and a half." Roller answered with a silly grin.

"Roller, now that you are an adult, what you do going forward will carry real consequences." Olnius stated with scorn but genuine affection. "And not just for you, but for our House, as well as our entire emirate."

"True sir, I do realize that." Roller replied. "But the same can be said for what we do NOT do."

Olnius shook his head sadly. "Roller, I recognize where you're coming from. It may not seem it, but I'm as outraged by what happened to Arlon as anyone."

"And by what happened to Orion?" Roller asked baitingly.

"Of course." Olnius snapped back. "I cared deeply for Orion. I felt him to be an excellent individual, and had fate gone another way, I would be voting him into House membership today, and embrace him as a Pax, like I would anyone in this room. But that's not how history turned out. And whatever the truth may be, he defied the Prime, he joined an outlaw group, and his actions, whether justified or not, indirectly led to the death of Arlon." He noted the look of anger in Roller's optics and nodded understandingly. "I am not putting any blame on Orion, Arlon made his own decision and Sentinel Prime's decision could not have been predicted by anyone, but the fact is that the moment Arlon died, I needed to step up and do what was best for House Pax and its subjects. I had to swallow my rage. I had to negotiate when I felt like striking. Leadership requires diplomacy and control. And war, which I fear is how you wished I would have reacted, would have ravaged everyone…everyone except Sentinel Prime."

Roller nodded. "Sir, I do understand, and yes, your attempts to keep us from war were correct and admirable. But we needed to take a stronger stance than we have taken, and the ignoring of the stationing of military forces along our border…"

"They're Honorum private security, not the government military, on Nova Cronum land, and they claim that they are reinforcing their borders due to the suspected smuggling of contraband through their territory." Olnius interrupted.

"Nova Cronum completely surrounds our emirate." Roller replied. "The only way to get anything here is through their territory."

"But it's contraband, Roller." Olnius replied. "Were it exotic flora or fauna, or furniture, or energon, even tainted energon, or anything else innocuous, I could offer an official rebuke to the mobilizations through proper channels. But I couldn't dare to do that, because that would invite further scrutiny to the situation, a situation where you were smuggling weapons through their borders!"

"According to whom?" Roller asked. "What have the Honorums claimed I have been transporting through their territory?"

"You're very clever Roller, and your friend Dion has done well to keep you and anyone you've employed from getting caught." Olnius placed his hand gently on Roller's shoulder. "But it's only a matter of time before you are caught. And an adult member of House Pax smuggling illegal weapons through Nova Cronum; it could be seen as an act of war."

"It's an act of protection, and it's the only protection we'll have." Roller answered, annoyed by the hand on his shoulder but leaving it there for the time being. "Sentinel Honorum is pissed, but whatever smuggling operation I may or may not be involved in is the least of it. He wants Orion, we don't have him but he doesn't believe that. He's convinced we've been either sheltering him or providing him with support for these past fourteen years. You can assure him we haven't, he may actually believe that you personally haven't, but he's convinced that's not the case with everyone here."

"Because that's NOT the case for everyone here." Olnius growled. "I don't know where A-Three and Orion disappeared to, but I'm convinced it's connected, and I have no doubt Sentinel PRIME would not believe it to be a coincidence either. And I'm convinced you're not remotely as ignorant to their situation as you claim to be."

"My Emir, I swear to you on my spark and all else I hold dear, that I do not know where Orion Pax or A-Three have gone." Roller replied earnestly.

Olnius regarded Roller for a long time before replying. "I believe you, though that only tells me that A-Three left you ignorant to certain details, likely to keep those details from getting out." The Emir of The Torus Heights finally smiled at Roller. "Your ignorance is a blessing, believe me in that young Roller. Now that you're an adult, the authorities can exert more pressure on you than they could before; not knowing might be the only thing that saves you…and Orion. Not knowing was thrust upon you…for me it's a conscious choice."

Roller peered deeply into Olnius's optics. "What do you mean by that?"

Once again Olnius stared at Roller in deep consideration before replying. "I've never been accused of being detail-oriented, but starships are beyond rare, not to mention extremely expensive, so one of the four House Pax possesses going missing a few days after I become interim emir was note-worthy. And given their value, do you really think there isn't a way to track them already in place?" He noted the look of surprise and realization washing over Roller's face. "I knew who took it, and I knew why. And I also knew that we were all better off with me not knowing where. I've made no mention of the missing craft, nor any mention of our missing polyhistor to anyone outside the House."

Roller mulled everything in his head, a look of anger initially coming over his face, but soon it was replaced with a look of affection. "You've had a way to track him this entire time…you could have given Sentinel Honorum what he wanted and deflated this situation for fourteen years…and you didn't?"

Olnius Pax nodded. "I have no interest in agitating Sentinel Prime, but I'm not handing Orion Pax over to him if it can be avoided."

"But if he finds out we're missing a ship, and it can be tracked…" Roller muttered.

"As I mentioned," Olnius smiled, "I've never been accused of being detail oriented. The ship vanished during the transition period, before I was officially named Emir of The Torus Heights and Head of House Pax. As far as I 'officially' know, it had been gone for eons. It's not like we've done any extraterrestrial travel in that time."

Roller stared at him deeply. "Thank you Emir Pax."

Olnius smiled. "I've never been your enemy, Roller Pax." He then took a more serious look. "Though that doesn't change the fact that I need you to cease all of your covert importation of…well, let's just say no more travel, arranging, or anything else for the time being."

"I'm sorry my Emir, but I cannot do that." Roller replied. "I appreciate what you have done, but it won't be enough to keep any of us safe. Sentinel Honorum will eventually get the pretext he needs to invade, to take over Tyger Pax, and to data-mine everything here, leading him to A-Three and Orion."

"Your activities are giving him that pretext!" Olnius insisted.

"It doesn't matter what I do or don't do." Roller replied. "I could cease and desist all activities right now; hell, I might not have ever done anything at all and it wouldn't keep Sentinel Honorum from coming after us. He needs to either find or manufacture a believable reason to do so, but eventually he will cross our borders and he will invade our home! It's only a matter of time."

"That's nonsense!" The now agitated emir snapped, drawing attention to their now-heated discussion. "We are House Pax! We are one of the most respected houses on Cybertron! Descended from Knight Paxus himself! Sentinel Prime wouldn't dare do anything like that, certainly not in the absence of your activities!"

"Have you forgotten the implied threat Rabattus Decimus relayed for him, the one comparing us to House Convoy and suggesting we may share their fate?" Roller replied, containing only slightly more control than Olnius.

"Bah, mere words said in haste by a Prime who recognized he was wrong but unable to admit that." Olnius dismissed the comment. "Things have calmed since then."

"His desire to kill Orion and A-Three has not calmed." Roller replied. "As long as they remain out of his grasp, and he sees us as his key to them, he will always be looking for a reason attack."

"No…" a look of confusion came over Olnius, failing to notice that nearly everyone in the room was focused on the two of them, "wait, why would he be interested in A-Three?"

Roller winced, as if recognizing he let something slip. "I mean when he finds out A-Three is the one that absconded with Orion."

"Whatever the case, as Emir of The Torus Heights, and as acting head of House Pax, I order you to immediately cease all activity not approved by me! In fact, you are hereby confined to Tyger Pax, and any and all communication you have with anyone outside of Tyger Pax must be pre-approved and monitored by me or someone I appoint to do so!" The angry Olnius Pax decreed, now fully aware that all were watching him.

"My activities are the only thing that will give us a chance at survival!" Roller snapped back.

"You're wrong about Sentinel Prime and his ambitions!" Olnius growled. "You're a young fool, and your foolishness is going to start a war!"

"I will not stand back and allow a tyrant to impose his will upon us!" Roller snarled.

"Then I am forced to call a vote for your removal!" Olnius shot. He turned and looked over everyone within the Sanctum. "We certainly have a quorum. I move that Roller of House Pax be removed from our rolls, stripped of his name, title and all associated privileges, effective immediately. Is there a second?" He clearly anticipated that a voice seconding his motion would reply back, but as the seconds ticked by with only silence filling them, his face took on a worried expression. "You all have heard him voice his open defiance of my orders, and express a desire to continue a course of action that will undoubtedly lead to war, a war we cannot win!"

"We have heard, my Emir." Loronus answered. "The problem is that even those that agree with your stance in dealing with Sentinel Prime do not feel that Roller should be removed from our House."

"I do not wish to do this," Olnius replied, "but he has left me no other option. I will not put House Pax in jeopardy by allowing him to continue to represent us."

"My lord, House Pax was in jeopardy long before Roller set off to give us the means by which to protect ourselves." Stronghold Pax replied. "Sir, I count you as one of my dearest friends and confidants, but you are not the emir The Torus Heights requires at this time." The tall, stout royal turned to look at the others in the room. "As mentioned by our emir, a quorum is present. I call for a vote to elect a new emir of The Torus Heights and a new Head of House Pax."

"Stonghold?" Olnius muttered.

"Seconded!" Loronus Pax called out, a look of sorrow on his face as he locked optics with Olnius Pax.

Olnius stared at them both utterly dumbstruck for several moments, but quickly regained his composure. "The motion to remove Roller Pax from the rolls of House Pax has failed. The motion to initiate a round of voting to elect a new Emir of The Torus Heights has been raised and seconded. As an incumbent willing to continue serving, my name will be on the ballot. Are there any nominations for someone to oppose me?"

Shifter Pax, a medium sized red and gray robot with a slotted faceplate stepped forward. "I nominate Roller Pax."

"What?" Roller stammered out, stunned. He looked at Shifter nodding, and then noted the subtle smiles coming from various members in the room.

"Shifter Pax, I suggest you put more thought into your nominations." Olnius replied. "Even were I to think him to be a good candidate, he would still be far too young for such a position. Yes, legally he is of age to become emir, but from a practical standpoint, he needs years, if not vorns of experience and wisdom to become ready for such a responsibility."

"On this Olnius and I seem to agree." Roller muttered.

"What's the matter birthday boy, too much discomfort for you?" Loronus quipped with yet another uncharacteristic smile, the comment eliciting a small chuckle out of Stronghold.

"My nomination stands." Shifter stated.

"I second it." Stronghold added.

"Very well." Olnius replied. "Roller Pax, do you accept the nomination?"

Roller stared at Loronus and Stronghold for several moments, then shifted his optics to the supportive gaze of Torenia. After several long, silent moments his head slowly started nodding. "Yes, my emir, I accept the nomination."

Olnius stared disbelievingly at Roller before regaining his composure and turning to the crowd. "Are there any other nominations?" The room remained silent for over a minute before the emir continued. "Alright, as there are no further nominations, I will open up discussions. Who would speak for Roller of House Pax?"

"I will be the first." Stronghold called out before stepping toward the center of the well-lit room that gave the feel of being every bit as ancient as it truly was. He slowly turned, taking time to look and evaluate every face in the room before settling his gaze on Roller. "Aye, he's young. Aye, he's impulsive. Aye, he's made mistakes, and he'll be making more. But he's not so vain or stubborn as to not listen to a voice of dissention, or refuse to accept he may be wrong and change his mind when he's convinced of such. And he's strong of will, and honorable, and courageous, and despite more than a bit of evidence to the contrary, he's a sharp lad." The statement elicited chuckles from the crowd and a playful look of scorn from Roller. "And, perhaps most importantly, he reminds me of Arlon. He speaks of defending The Heights with Arlon's fire, he speaks of doing what's right and just as we all know Arlon always did, and as he always would were he not murdered. He draws the lines where they need to be drawn, where Arlon, and Paxus himself would draw them; not the current position, where they've been inched back to over the last sixth of a vorn."

"I admire the boy's convictions, his courage; I do not disagree with most of what you've said." Olnius interrupted. "But he would have us defy the government, defy the Prime."

"Bah!" Stronghold grumbled. "What Prime? We swore fealty to the Matrix. Sentinel Honorum is a jumped up enforcer who had the strength, name and influence at a moment gripped by the fear and uncertainty brought on by the murder of his predecessor; another so-called Prime with a chest devoid of the Matrix's wisdom! We need no Prime selected by a weak and corrupt senate, we need only follow a strong emir wholly devoted to The Torus Heights!" The hulking robot asserted.

"I am not the conciliatory weakling you, Roller, and others have painted me to be." Olnius growled. "Just ask Roller."

They all looked to Roller, who shook his head. "On one issue, which I would rather not discuss, he has shown a willingness to defy the government. Not an open defiance, but he's kept information that they were unaware he had access to, information they wanted, to himself."

After a long moment of silence Loronus stepped forward. "And should it have become known that you had access to this information, whatever it may be, and the Prime demanded it of you, would you have provided it?"

"You've the strength to passively defy through omission," Stronghold followed, "but have ye the strength to look Sentinel Prime in the optics, listen to him order you to divulge what you're privy to, and tell him no?"

Olnius Pax stared at both of them heatedly. "I would have to weigh the good of House Pax against such a defiance." He replied. "Honestly, I don't know how I would respond."

"He does." Stronghold nodded toward Roller.

"Enough." Olnius ended it. "I believe we've heard all we need to hear about Roller Pax. As for me, you all know my record. I've kept us safe, I've kept us from a war that would destroy our House and ravage our emirate, I've kept the honor and planetary status of House Pax intact at a time when all these things seemed virtually impossible. All while my fellow candidate was actively trying to end our safety, peace, security and good name. It all boils down to a simple question; what do you place more value on, revenge for Arlon, or the future wellbeing of our House."

"Olnius," Roller muttered, "the true question is whether or not we believe Sentinel Honorum will ever give up his desire to subdue us, which is unlikely, or his obsession to eliminate Orion Pax, which I assure you, he never will. One way or another, he will continue to demand the impossible of us, until we're finally out of options by which to buy time. We have no choice, conflict with Nova Cronum is inevitable, I seek only to be prepared as best we can for when it comes." Roller looked out to the other members of House Pax. "I will not initiate aggression with Nova Cronum, as emir I will employ far more diplomacy than I ever have as a minor with no official responsibility. But I will see to it that outside forces will not roll over us. I will not lay down and be Sentinel Honorum's dog. The Torus Heights will stand strong against tyranny, just as it was always meant to. This I swear."

"You are a young fool." Olnus growled.

"Perhaps." Roller replied with a shrug. "I was taught to always do what is honorable and just; should that run in opposition to wisdom, so be it."

Olnius smiled. "On that note, we will open up the voting on the morrow." With that he marched toward and then through the doors and into the hallway.

Starscream

Despite appearances, they weren't all here. In actuality there were probably twenty percent that needed to remain behind doing what they normally do in their regular lives to keep up appearances, but those that did heed the call and come here seemed to stretch on forever. Starscream stood on the cliff overlooking the canyon below, one cut into the metal and stone of the Pentiathan, the five peak mountain cluster in the borderlands joining the southwestern Tagan Heights, the western badlands of Polyhex, the eastern and northeastern badlands of Nyon, and southeastern Tyrest, so named in reference to the ancient demon gods of Cybertron that were either killed or driven out, depending on which legend you subscribed to, by pre-Knight era Cybertronians through the grace of Primus or The Hand, depending on which faith you subscribed to. It was considered the Primeval Age of the Transformers, the few million years between the emergence of their species and the rise of the Sparkeaters, a time when the organic demons that held dominion over the world witnessed the rise of intelligent mechanical life and saw the threat they posed. The demons were many, but they were mortal, so they sought to strengthen themselves and attain the immortality held by the higher spark-bearing lifeforms by altering themselves, binding groups of five into one nearly entirely mechanical form, shedding nearly all of their flesh, blood and bone to combine their thoughts as well as their bodies.

They attempted to enslave the masses of intelligent robots, but unlike the giant mechanicals that had preceded them, the numbers of the current species of Transformers were vast, each Vectoral pulse giving rise to hundreds, sometime over a thousand. In only a few millennia the numbers of Transformers had grown dangerously high. Culling was done, but that made the populace unruly, untrusting, and uprisings came about. Each was more difficult to quell than the last. The one aspect most legends seemed to agree on was that a clan from a hotspot just a few hundred miles due north of where Starscream now stood began conspiring against the demon-lords. Those that would in time become House Convoy created an underground movement, much like Starscream, Megatron and Soundwave were doing now, to help the oppressed but superior creatures rise up and remove the predecessors that were holding them down. The final uprising began fifteen and a half million years ago, and took five hundred thousand years to achieve victory over the demon-lords, killing them, exiling them off-world, or a myriad of other less plausible fates. Some legends claim that with their parting shot, the demon-lords used their alchemy to violate the frames of Transformer prisoners, turning them into the first Sparkeaters. Some legends claim that it was from this valley that the Sparkeaters spread out to end existence for all spark-bearing life, so a link to the demon-lords would seem possible, given that these peaks were named after their greatest warlords.

The region was a wasteland, and the mountain range considered cursed. No permanent settlements had ever sprung up within two hundred miles of this land, only travelers and nomads ever walked this ground, and those that did were very few in number. Even the airspace was usually clear of traffic. It was the reason Megatron had chosen this place for his grand assembly. He could stand before his followers, for the first time for the majority of them, and address them. Starscream was standing upon an outcropping jutting out from Mount Kedji, standing at Megatron's left side, Soundwave opposite him at the chrome gladiator's right. The only officer missing, the only member of their underground movement of any note to not be here, was Shockwave, who Megatron mentioned had other work to do. Megatron finally stepped forward to the edge of the outcropping, looking out over his followers, who numbered in excess of one hundred thousand, and smiled at the nearly deafening roar blasting up at him from the canyon below. Starscream was unable to hide the look of agitation that came over his face as uncontainable jealousy coursed through his frame. Megatron was a brutish, savage, lowbrow thug. He had his place, he certainly contained cunning, but he was unrefined and unpolished…figuratively anyway, his immaculate frame was certainly glistening in the setting sun, but any metal can be cleaned and made shiny. He would certainly make a valuable asset, a top-tier commander really, but he was not remotely of the same caliber as Starscream. He lacked finesse, he lacked class, and the fact that he would be the head of this army, and in time, this planet, irked Starscream to no end. But Starscream was patient, and in time Megatron would leave himself open and vulnerable, and at that time, Starscream would take advantage of the situation, remove Megatron, and take his rightful place as ruler of Cybertron. Starscream Prime…no, Star Prime…no, Screamus Prime…

"My Chosen!" Megatron bellowed out over the canyon below, his voice nothing short of thunder, the smile on his face beaming approval that even those miles away could see, interrupting Starscream's thoughts. "We are here to celebrate our accomplishments! We are here to celebrate our greatness! We are here to bring us all together for the first time; to show you, all of you, the scope, the power of our cause, our movement, our ARMY!"

The valley roared back, causing Starscream to turn his head in near pain brought on by the tidal wave of sound. Megatron raised his hand, and the roar almost immediately went silent. "There have been hints of us, there are even those who know we exist, but none have an accurate idea of what we truly are! We are nothing but myth; exaggerations of criminal organizations or Autobot propaganda to draw attention away from them! For fifteen years our Grand Deception has been at work! Faith in the Prime has never been lower! The nobility considers Prime's government a failure! We've incited the commoners to hunt and despise those Autobots that would represent and champion them! And through it all, we've positioned ourselves in positions of power and influence! We've enlisted the influential in every facet of society! Soldiers! Criminals! Politicians! Industrialists! Scientists! Royals! My Chosen, our Grand Deception is coming to an end! Soon, very soon, we shall reveal ourselves to all of Cybertron! They shall know, finally, who we are, what we've been doing in plain sight for so many years, and they shall know of their new place in OUR world! They shall know and despair at being deceived by those they once looked down on, but now must accept as their betters; their masters! We are no longer gladiators, laborers, criminals, commoners! No, my Chosen, we are now and always, Decepticons!" The roars of the crowd had to have carried for dozens of miles, even out here in the badlands it seemed impossible to Starscream that they were not heard. But as Megatron had boasted, the time of deception was almost done. There was no stopping them now.

Megatron's grin seemed impossibly broad as he beamed over their vast army of newly dubbed Decepticons, and stomped his right foot to release the banner that had been positioned just under the ledge they were on to unfurl over the cliff below them and over the on-looking Decepticons. The giant gray canvas dropped down, revealing the giant image of the purple Warrior's jagged, angular face etched into the center of it. Megatron then reached up to his chest, and rubbed his right hand across it, wiping away the thin layer of chrome paint that had been covering the purple Warrior's face painted across the center of his breast plate. "We do not brandish the face of the Common Man, like the Autobots, because we do not represent the comman man; we are not common men! We are the exceptional, we are the dominant, we are the elite! The only sigil worthy of us is the face of the Warrior, because that is what we Decepticons are! Nothing else is worthy of representing us! Decepticons Forever!"

The chrome would-be conqueror grinned out over the boisterous throngs for over a minute before finally turning to Soundwave and nodding, walking back and disappearing into the cavern behind them all. Soundwave walked forward to the edge where Megatron had just departed from and transformed into his shell mode, a communications array. "Decepticons! You have all been broken into legions. Assemble with your legions, your commanders will provide you with your assignments. Once you have your assignment, disperse and carry out your instructions! Decepticons forever!"

Starscream watched, almost angrily, as the countless throngs assembled into their groupings with exceptional efficiency. Megatron was a clod, yet somehow he managed to get the best out of these unwashed assets. Imagine what a true leader could get them to accomplish.

Wreck Gar

Despite the vehement protests of his officers and soldiers, he rode out with only Weirdal Lo-Gar and Pinion from the imposing gates of the capital city and sped over the piles of junk, layers of it dug up to be piled over the countless corpses. Thousands of his fellow Junkions, warriors who had fought both with him and against him laid dead; the Gar of Junk nearly wept when he considered what the percentage of the population had been reduced by in the nine years of warfare that they had experienced. The western plains outside Junkion Prime had been the sight of the most horrific carnage of the six day siege Detritus's army had levied against the planetary capital. Perhaps Detritus chose this place to treat because of the clearly displayed death and destruction; a way of showing what had been done because of their conflict, and what would continue to be done should Wreck Gar continue to oppose the would-be-usurper.

Detritus stood ahead, alone, before a table neatly laid out upon a hill of debris. It was undoubtedly piled over corpses, but in a rare showing of good taste and diplomacy he had covered the death of their meeting place. He greeted them with a smile, his hordes lined up half a mile beyond them looking on threateningly, but holding their positions as Detritus had vowed they would. Even with them holding their position, Wreck Gar and his companions had put their lives in danger; should Detritus give the word, there was little chance of them getting back within the city gates alive. A half mile was not enough buffer, especially for the relatively slow moving Weirdal. But defending the city had forced them to expend all but a precious sliver of their remaining energy resources, even a percentage of their swill rations had been reassigned for defensive weaponry. They didn't have the strength to break the siege, and they would soon be starving if they remained within the city. And any outside help was unlikely, even if one of his generals could return to the capital as they were days away at best. Hazmat, Recycle, Scrapheap and Shearbolt were in the eastern hemisphere, Scrap Iron was thousands of miles south and Rubbish was thousands of miles north. Only his Lo-Gar Orion Pax was anywhere near this sector of the planet, and in all likelihood he was dead or soon would be. The Pax Lo-Gar had taken a force of five hundred soldiers to break Greasestain's control over the Compostus sector. Greasestain had over four thousand soldiers under his command, securely holding the sector and raining tyranny down upon its inhabitants. The young general had assured Wreck Gar that he could overcome the odds, break Greasestain's control of Compostus Prime, and bring relief to the citizenry; and Wreck Gar, ever the trusting fool when it came to Orion Pax, believed him and sent him out against the impossible odds.

He transformed along with his comrades, and stepped to the table across from Detritus, gazing warily at the army amassed behind his former friend. "I'm taking quite a chance here, Detritus. I hope shreds of the honor you once had still reside within you and keep you from murdering us."

A small laugh escaped Detritus's rust-covered lips. "If not honor, you can at least count on my common sense keeping me from calling you out with promises of good faith and then murdering you. I don't need trickery to defeat you, I only need a bit more time and wait for your forces to starve. And besides, most of my men would likely abandon my cause were I to do something as disgraceful as invite you to treat and then have my warriors fall upon you."

"Half forces bein' murderin' and no honor, like da' Detritus." Pinion muttered. "Half forces bein 'scripted, bein to fight for da' Detritus or be dyin'…or havin' der loved ones be dyin'."

"You are not to speak again." Detritus snarled at Pinion, turning to Wreck Gar. "His insipid gibberish is painful enough to my audio receptors that I'm tempted to view it as an assault."

"Enough." Wreck Gar grumbled. "Tell us what you've called us here to tell us."

"Of course, my old friend." Detritus replied, readopting his grin. "I've asked you here to point out the obvious. You're outnumbered and outclassed on the battlefield, but remaining within the walls of Junkion Prime is no longer an option either. You've tried to break our siege, but you've failed and paid a tremendous price for it. Any help is too far away, and the only general you had close enough to have aided you led his army of a few hundred into a host of thousands. Orion Pax is dead, his army routed. Help will not be coming." Detritus lost his smile, taking on a look of sadness as he started to slowly walk around the table to the other party, causing Weirdal Lo-Gar and Pinion to take defensive postures and Wreck Gar to merely glare at him warily. "My friend, so many of us have died, our people have been decimated, all because of a mistake that is now dead. Our reason to fight is no longer there, please, brother, let us put this conflict aside. Your judgement in taking in the homeworlder is such that you can no longer remain Gar, but I have no desire to see you dead. You must believe me, I am not acting out of vengeance or cruelty." He reached out to place his hand on Wreck Gar's shoulder, but the defender of Junkion Prime stepped back to avoid the touch. Detritus continued speaking anyway. "I know you have no desire to hear this, but I mourned Nan-Cee as you did. Had I been there, had I known she was there…well, things would have turned out differently, that I promise you. But that damn fool Pax enlisted her to…"

"Shut your mouth." Wreck Gar snarled in a low, threatening voice. "You will not speak her name, nor will you put her death on anyone other than yourself and your attack dogs."

Detritus glared at Wreck Gar angrily for a moment before shrugging. "Fine, then hear my proposal. Kneel and live, or stand and die."

"You know my answer." Wreck Gar growled. "You knew what my answer would be before summoning me here. What is the purpose of this meeting…the true purpose?"

Detritus backed up back to his side of the table and grinned again. "Pinion is an idiot, but he was right. My army is divided into those that share my values, specifically that honor is nice to have only to the point where it gets in the way of attaining your goals, and those that fight because if they don't, they and their loved ones will die horrific deaths."

"We were never going to return to Junkion Prime, were we?" Weirdal Lo-Gar pressed, already aware of the answer. Detritus turned his grin upon Weirdal, but a horn blaring out from the city walls prevented him from responding right away. They all turned to look toward the walls of the city, hoping for some clarification of what the horn represented. "A force approaches from the south." Weirdal announced as he saw the soldiers positioned on the ramparts looking in that direction. They all turned to look in that direction.

"From Compostus." Pinion muttered.

"Good." Detritus smirked as they all caught sight of dust and other debris being kicked up by a large number of vehicles in the distance heading toward the city. "Greasestain is finished with Pax's forces and has sent some of his here to aid me. The war is over Wreck. I urge you once again to surrender."

Wreck Gar stared at the approaching horde, one that numbered over a thousand. Orion Pax had left with half that number, so any hope that this oncoming force was his immediately evaporated. Detritus's eight thousand strong force was now nine thousand strong, against the starving two thousand Wreck Gar still had defending the city. And these reinforcements would be bringing energy resources as well as their swords, spears and axes. Detritus was right, the war was effectively over. "Detritus…"

Detritus turned and smiled at his friend. "It's Detritus Gar, my old friend. If you plan on continuing to live, I suggest you get used to using my proper title."

"The citizens, those that opposed you?" Wreck Gar asked.

"Say my name." Detritus pressed.

"First, assure me. Assure me that complete amnesty and forgiveness,"

"Say my name!" Detritus yelled, but seemed to calm, and readopted his smirk. "Actually, now that Pax's defeat has been confirmed, I have no more reason to hide anything from you. There will be no amnesty. Those that fight for you will be slaughtered. You will be slaughtered. Pinion will be lowered into the Acid Sea, an inch of his body each day. He'll linger for weeks in agony before finally expiring."

A look of rage came over Wreck Gar's face as he and his comrades took a step back and drew their melee weapons, axes for Wreck Gar and Weirdal, a short sword for Pinion. He was about to charge Detritus, who now had his own sword drawn and was summoning his forces to march forward when an amplified voice called out from the ramparts of the city. "PAX LOOOOO-GARRRRRRR!"

The call was immediately followed by the thunderous sound of the oncoming force crashing into and through the fifteen hundred soldiers lined up outside the southern walls of the city. The sounds of calamitous impact and subsequent battle was joined by the cheers of thousands from within the city. Despite the overwhelming noise, Wreck Gar had no difficulty hearing the whispered denial from Detritus. "Impossible."

"PAX…PAX…PAX…PAX…PAX… PAX…PAX…PAX…PAX…PAX… PAX…PAX…PAX…PAX…PAX!"

Wreck Gar glared at Detritus, who's stare of the chaos going on off in the distance to his right finally broke and locked onto Wreck Gar's gaze. "This changes nothing! You will die!"

"He's through!" Weirdal called out, prompting them both to turn and see a hulking gray form burst through the other side of Detritus's southern forces, laying low four besiegers with a single swipe of Pax's cybertanium axe. The hulking robotic form battered seven more to death or non-functionality before turning to stare across the several miles separating them. The gray hulk began shaking a bit, shucking off the massive gray portions of armor, allowing it to fall to the ground to reveal Orion Pax underneath. Pax reached down, adjusted the armor into a wedge shape, transformed to his truck mode, and drove into the back of the wedge, clamping on to it and speeding toward the two Gars.

"Impossible!" Detritus roared. By this point Detritus's forces had arrived and were surrounding them. To the south the hole that Orion and his vanguard had cut through Detritus's southern forces was allowing the bulk of Orion's other forces to pass through toward the city. By the time the armored Orion reached the western forces surrounding Detritus, Wreck Gar, Weirdal and Pinion, the majority of reinforcements had reached the western gates and were being allowed into Junkion Prime.

Orion pulled to a stop, transformed, and reformed and reapplied his thick, gray armor. The transformation, application of the armor, and the gripping the axe in a battle-ready position took roughly five seconds. "Detritus, I know you're in there! Let's talk!"

"Pax, you royal bitch, why would I want to talk to you?" Detritus called out from within the three hundred soldiers surrounding him.

"Because I'm about to tell you that if anything happens to Wreck Gar, Weirdal Lo-Gar or Pinion, I will cut through your forces, get to you, and butcher you in the most painful way time will permit me," Orion called out from underneath a plain but effective and very thick gray helmet, "and I want to be certain that you hear me clearly."

"Pax, my friend, I thought I only gave you five hundred troops." Wreck Gar called out. "You seem to have doubled that number."

Orion laughed. "It's good to hear your voice, my Gar. It seems that as the tide of battle shifted our way in Compostus, those that were conscripted were more than eager to either flee or join me voluntarily and oppose their oppressors." The helmeted Pax rolled his gaze over the soldiers arrayed before him. "Oh, and for you soldiers, please note that this siege has been broken, the tide of this battle is about to shift our way, and that those here that are conscripts are free to leave or join us too."

"Detritus Gar's personal guard consists of no conscripts." A Junkion warrior snarled at Pax.

"Good to know. Should we be unable to reach a peaceful solution here, I'll be cutting through you all with a clear conscious." Pax announced as he walked forward in a non-threatening way, but exuding the air that he would not be stopped. The soldiers hesitantly parted, allowing him to come within two dozen yards of Detritus and the captives, the soldiers providing him an unobstructed view of them, but making it clear that they would not let him get any closer. "This is better. My Gar, in addition to the forces I've brought to Junkion Prime, I've also brought eighteen hundred pounds of swill, and enough raw energy resources to produce twice that."

"My Lo-Gar," Wreck Gar gasped, "you've saved us."

Orion turned to Detritus. "I've brought you something as well." He reached into a compartment in the armor of his upper back and pulled something out. He tossed it to Detritus, who caught it and looked down into the lifeless optics of Greasestain's head. "As you can see, I was unable to reach a peaceful solution in Compostus Prime."

A look of rage twisted over Detritus's face. "Why should I not kill you and hurl your head over the walls of Junkion Prime?"

"Because you can't." Orion replied, his tone oddly lacking any sense of arrogance despite what he had just said. "You were there when I presented that axe to Wreck Gar, and you expressed an interest in owning the one I have in my hands right now. You were there when I explained where I had obtained the cybertanium used to make these weapons. Well, a few years ago, I went back to the sunken ship and got some more of the alloy. I figured it would be useful to have, but didn't know in what capacity I would be able to use it. Then in the campaign where we liberated my home of Refurbia Prime I took a great deal of damage when charging through the occupation forces. I already had been experimenting with armor, more often than not I wear my faceplate, though I think that's more to offset the impression that I'm young…anyway, the armor I had been experimenting with had really not added much in the way of value given how durable my naked frame already was. But cybertanium, that's impervious to any melee weapon. The downside to this sort of armor is that it's so damn heavy and unwieldy. At least it is to most." Pax opened his arms to fully present the armor covering most of his body. "I'm strong enough so that wearing it only marginally slows me down, and I have yet to reach the point of fatigue where it becomes more an impediment than asset. And in every battle I've worn this armor, I've cut through your forces like an artillery shell through organics."

"Magnificent." Wreck Gar muttered admirably. "Your very own Apex Armor."

Orion chuckled. "Funny you mention that. I was actually dating a descendant of Solus. Had we continued dating, and if it ever really existed, and if it still exists, and House Solus still has it, I might have seen the real Apex Armor by now."

"What?" Weirdal muttered.

"Knights of Cybertron legend." Wreck Gar replied. "Solus, possibly with the help of the Matrix, created armor that enhanced the wearer's strength and durability vastly, but could only be worn by the most noble and courageous. She also created the Star Saber, also guided to do so with the power and wisdom of the Matrix, but gifted it to Honorus. Apparently it could cut through armies, even armies of Sparkeaters. Machtus had a fusion cannon that could also cut through armies that he had mounted on his arm, but that was created independent of Solus and the Matrix."

"Pointless legends of things that either never existed, or whose characteristics were embellished to absurd levels." Detritus grumbled. "Much like Pax's potency in battle, with or without that armor."

"Perhaps my skill in battle has been exaggerated. I'd suggest asking Greasestain, but he hasn't been very talkative since I removed his head." Pax snapped back. "But you could check with your southern flank, they might have a comment or two about my potency."

"Actually, I was just surprised to hear Pax had a girlfriend." Weirdal inserted with a smile.

"Detritus, even you have to realize that from this distance, should I want to, I'd get to you." Pax stated. "But you allow me to return to Junkion Prime with Wreck Gar, Weirdal Lo-Gar and Pinion, and you can place as many thousand warriors between us that you have. It's your choice, but know that should you act upon us right now, your forces MIGHT kill Wreck Gar, or me, or both of us, but I WILL kill you."

Detritus stared intently at Pax, then looked off to the south where his forces had been gutted. Of the fifteen hundred soldiers that had been positioned there, less than half seemed to be moving. Granted, the majority of the casualties were caused by Pax's soldiers, who were now within the city and too far to be of much aid to them, but Pax had been the first one to slam into his soldiers, and had cut through almost unfettered. It was that fact that made his decision. Orion Pax in his armor may not be able to kill all his soldiers here, but he could push through them and get to him before they would be able to cut him down. "Go, all of you! But know that this siege has only just begun, you will be forced to face us on the open field, and you will be cut down to your last man."

"Detritus." Wreck Gar called out as he reached Orion and turned back to his enemy. "Our soldiers need not die. Let's settle this between the two of us."

Detritus laughed. "Why would I give up such a clear battlefield advantage?"

"To spare the lives of those you call your people." Wreck Gar replied.

"My people are best served by my victory over you." Detritus grumbled. "Flee back to your walls, and await destruction."

Wreck Gar, Orion Pax, Weirdal and Pinion turned, transformed and sped out toward the gates of Junkion Prime. They were immediately admitted, and transformed back to robot mode once on the other side of the wall. "Well my friend, once again you've proven your worth, but I fear our real work is about to begin." Wreck Gar stated as Orion stepped away from his armor on the ground, allowing the Gar of Junkion to clasp his shoulders affectionately.

"You're right, my Gar." Pax replied, a look of intensity on his face. "The soldiers I returned with are fully fueled and ready for battle. I know that the ones here in the city are starved, but I feel that the best time to strike, perhaps the only time to strike, is now."

Wreck Gar stared intently up into the optic of the homeworlder. He was right, those that had been defending the city were starved, but if they could end this siege…if they could end this war… "What do you have in mind?"

"Nearly half of his force is conscripted, with no true loyalty to Detritus." Orion stated. "A good portion of the rest are only loyal to the extent that it serves their best interests. I feel that if we were to present a viable threat to their victory, much of these forces would melt away, some might even join us. And should we reach him, and cut him down, those that are left will flee or surrender immediately. It's what happened in Compostus, and I'm sure it'll happen here. But he's aware of what happened to Greasestain and has no interest in allowing me to do that to him, so cutting through to him will be increasingly difficult with each passing minute."

"I thought you could cut through like artillery." Weirdal questioned, a smirk on his face.

Orion shrugged and displayed a childish grin. "I may have exaggerated a bit. Detritus is the type to be unnerved by an arrogant opponent with just enough ability to back up some of that arrogance." He turned back to Wreck Gar. "But with just those few hundred, armed with only melee weapons, I have no doubt I can get to Detritus and end the threat he poses. I may get killed in the process, but if it ends this war, it's a sacrifice worth making."

"I promised Atrium that you wouldn't be harmed." Wreck Gar replied.

"Then if I'm killed, apologize to him if and when he ever returns." Orion replied. "But your duty is to your people. If my death can end this war, you're obligated to do it."

"You will charge out." Wreck Gar replied after a silent minute of thought. "But I will be with you. Cut me a path, and leave Detritus to me. Your fate will be my fate, and frankly, I want to be the one to kill the bastard."

Orion considered objecting, but he knew Wreck Gar wasn't going to give. "Then energize yourself my Gar, you won't stand a chance if you're near empty."

It was less than an hour later when the gates were thrown open again, and Wreck Gar studied the battle field and locked on to Detritus. While they were charging and making preparations they had their lookouts supply bi-minute reports of the besiegers' activity. The bulk of the activity was directed toward reinforcing the southern force, but Detritus had been getting in a few hundred more troops to surround him. It was not as easy a task as one would think, as he required loyal soldiers to make up his personal guard, but at the same time he needed enough loyal soldiers positioned throughout his army to keep the almost as numerous conscripts in line and intimidated into not rebelling or deserting. It was clear, based on the surprise on Detritus's face, that his repositioning of troops was not complete…that, or the idea that Wreck Gar and his forces would just charge out and attack him head on was impossible. It normally would be a foolhardy course of action; the vast majority of his troops were being used in this assault, and it would be a very short period of time before Detritus's troops from other points around the city would swoop in the surround them. Orion Pax felt that they could cut off the head of the serpent prior to that happening, but Wreck Gar had his doubts. Those doubts weren't enough for him to lose faith in his most valuable general, but they poked at his thoughts none the less.

Pax sped out ahead, his massive, cybertanium wedge plowing through the dozens of unfortunate warriors that were directly in front of him. He had gone through fifteen rows of lined soldiers before he finally slowed, transformed, and reapplied his incredibly heavy armor. Wreck Gar had lifted several pieces while they made their preparations, and simply could not believe the ease by which Orion carried and wielded it. Of course, it's effectiveness was beyond question, as dozens of blades swarmed down on him, and dozens of blades bounced away harmlessly. Conversely, Pax's axe cut through the throngs as if they were made of gestational metallico. Part of that was Pax's raw power, part was due to the material and craftsmanship of the weapon itself, which Wreck Gar was reminded of as he used his own cybertanium axe to cut through besiegers. He tried to keep up with Pax, but the hundreds of warriors recognizing him and trying to kill him kept him busy.

Their surge pushed through Detritus's personal guard very effectively, but there reached a point where the advance was slowed to a crawl, and the reinforcements were arriving. Their flanks and rearguard were forced to turn and engage the reinforcements surrounding them, and the little progress they were making came to a stop. A blade from behind slipped past and cut into Wreck Gar's side; it was painful, but not particularly damaging, especially for a Junkion, but he knew that it would be the first of many, and each wound would take a toll that would drive him ever closer to defeat. To death really, but defeat, and Detritus ruling brutally over his people was the true fear for Wreck Gar.

He looked up toward Orion, who was being swarmed by dozens of warriors, finally recognizing that their blades were useless, but their bulk, their sheer numbers, could put a stop to the homeworlder. Orion's advance, once considered an unstoppable certainly, had ceased, a despondent Wreck Gar was forced to acknowledge as a second blade slipped into him from behind. A hill of Junkions was forming on top of Orion, and soon there was nothing but the swarm of those loyal to Detritus visible, piled body on top of body on top of body. Orion was a personal threat to Detritus, but only so long as Wreck Gar's forces were there to occupy Detritus's forces. But by keeping him contained, at least long enough to remove the threat of Junkions loyal to Wreck Gar, he would never be able to get at Detritus. It was a simple, almost childish strategy, but it seemed to be working.

Wreck Gar gasped as a spear cut through his left shoulder. He could feel himself weakening. He fought on valiantly, but the hope along with his strength was ebbing away. That was until he saw a blue fist blast through the side of a hill of orange, brown, yellow and black Junkion. He watched as another blue hand, and red forearms behind them dug through the pile of besiegers, and Orion pried himself out from underneath. All but a few who had been on top of him thought they still were; likely because they were still on the armor Pax has been wearing. But he was free, devoid of armor or weapon, but free, and reached out toward two of Detritus's soldiers and battered them down with his fists, plucking a sword from each of the unconscious warriors.

At seeing Orion free and fighting, Wreck Gar felt a renewed sense of strength and determination surge through him. He pulled the spear-tip out from his shoulder and split the head of its wielder in half with a blow from his axe. He cut forward, slicing through enemies until he was right behind Orion. "Pax! Thank Primus you made it out of that!"

Orion turned and grinned, his face sliced up in several places and streaked with various fluids. "I think most of them still think they have me." He called out over the sounds of battle, his blades a blur of murderous motion, his combination of raw power, nearly super-cybertronian speed, and skilled swordsmanship allowed him to cut down dozens in seconds. Where an armored Pax was an unstoppable juggernaut, an unarmored Pax was a blur of destructive force.

"Let them! Twenty fewer of the bastards to deal with." Wreck Gar called out as they created a rhythm of slicing that cut a swath through the enemy soldiers. Fifty yards ahead stood a suddenly very nervous looking Detritus. "I want him!"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Wreck Gar!" Pax called out. "Focus on the enemies around us!" Wreck Gar took the words to spark and noted those between them and Detritus. His spark leapt at seeing the numbers thinning by the second, he and Pax were effectively whittling them away, but then he despaired as dozens, even hundreds swooped in and positioned themselves in front of Detritus. The bastard's grin was more painful than the slashes cutting across his frame every few seconds.

It was hopeless, there were just too many of them. No matter how many they cut down, there were twice as many to take the place of the fallen. These soldiers were just as deadly, just as devoted…except, Wreck Gar noticed, they weren't as deadly. A slash to the arm and they'd fall away to the ground and play dead, a light bump and they'd topple over. And their optics, it wasn't rage, or spark-lust staring back at Wreck Gar now, no, it was fear.

"Conscripted soldiers!" Orion bellowed out as he stopped. Nine warriors stood before him, six ceased their attacks on him, three surged forward to impale him. Two slashes later and those three were dead on the ground. Orion pointed a sword at Detritus twenty yards ahead. "Take the traitor into custody!"

"What?" Detritus roared in rage and surprise. "Cut down Pax and Wreck, and all those that follow them! Do it now!"

"Whether you stand with us, flee, or stand against us, I will get to Detritus, this I vow!" Pax roared. "Do you really wish to die fighting for one who will be following you in death moments later?" To punctuate the point, Orion leapt up and flung the sword in his left hand at Detritus, impaling it in his right thigh. Detritus howled in pain, and Orion landed and snatched a sword from the hand of one of the uncertain soldiers standing near him. "Now is your chance! Either you turn on he who enslaved you, you flee, or you stand against me, but you must decide now!" Pax waited a moment before recommencing his surge forward. As he had hoped, a quarter of those standing against him turned and fled, and another quarter turned to aid their push toward Detritus.

Unfortunately a new wave of warriors swarmed in to defend Detritus, and this group was far more loyal. "Wreck Gar!" Orion called out.

"What is it?" Wreck Gar called back as he continued slicing but forced to move back.

"Transform and be ready to hit the ground!" Orion called out. "Now!" Not sure what was going on, Wreck Gar chose to trust the young homeworlder and comply, transforming to his dual-wheeled ground cruiser mode. Orion dropped his swords, allowing the blades that had been trying to gain access to him finally strike him, but he ignored the attacks, gripped the two-wheeled vehicle and flung it over the heads of the warriors, through the air, and beyond Detritus. Wreck Gar's tires his the ground hard, but were already spinning and he sped out over the hills of garbage and circled back toward Detritus. Wreck Gar transformed and caught his axe as it was cast out from the transformation.

The stunned Detritus barely got his broadsword up in time to block the oncoming axe blade. The two traded savage blow after savage blow. Soldiers charged toward them to intervene, but Wreck Gar was able to slice one away while others were kept occupied by blades being thrown at them by Orion, who was plucking them away from those assaulting him. He was still the most effective warrior on the battlefield by a wide margin, but he was slowing down, the damage to his frame finally catching up to him. But Wreck Gar couldn't worry about Orion Pax right now, he needed to focus on Detritus. "All this murder, all this waste and destruction. All for nothing! You've decimated our race for your own Primus-damned ego!" Wreck Gar slashed under Detritus's sword, cutting through his abdomen.

"Bastard!" Detritus snarled. "You would have us become slaves to the nobility of the home world again!" He hammered down with his broadsword heavily, but Wreck Gar parried it away and slashed back, cutting through his left optic. "Arrrrr!"

"You don't believe that!" Wreck Gar roared as he swung down, cutting through the left thigh of Detritus, causing his would be replacement to fall painfully to the ground. "You never believed that! It was all just an excuse to seize power!" Wreck Gar raised his axe blade high into the air, grunting as a soldier thrust his sword blade into his lower back, but ignoring the pain and damage.

"No!" Detritus cried out, raising his hand to stop the killing blow.

But Wreck Gar would not be deterred by attack or by plea, and the blade came down, buried deep into Detritus's chest. Wreck Gar locked optics with Detritus, and watched as those of his enemy went black. "Such a waste." Wreck Gar grumbled as he whirled around to see the soldier who had stabbed him. The warrior had released his sword and was staring down at the corpse of Detritus. "Do you wish to follow him in death?" Wreck Gar muttered to the stunned warrior, who finally looked up at him and shook his head. "Then flee before I come to terms with the fact that you stabbed your Gar in the back." The Junkion nodded and turned, transforming and speeding away. Wreck Gar looked to the battle, still raging just yards away, a seas of combatants stretching almost all the way to the walls of the city. He turned back to the corpse, pulled out his axe, stepped to the side of Detritus's body, and once again brought the blade down. He dropped the axe, painfully bent over and gripped something. "Orion!"

Orion and dozens of other soldiers turned to look at him, and stopped as they saw Wreck Gar with Detritus's head in his hands. Slowly, all those near turned, saw, and ceased their fighting. But others were needlessly dying, others who didn't see. "My Gar." Orion said as he pushed through the soldiers toward him. He was savaged, his once handsome face was shredded, his frame, renowned for its durability, was battered and sliced open in many spots. But he walked forward as if he felt no pain, and lowered before Wreck Gar. The Gar was about to reprimand him; Junkions do not kneel, but he saw what Orion had in mind. His hands were low and cupped, an invitation for his feet. Wreck Gar stepped into his hands, and a moment later he was standing upon the outstretched hands of Orion Pax, high over the heads of all, and he raised his own hands to display the severed head of Detritus. It took several moments for the battles to ebb and finally stop, as all combatants finally turned to see. Detritus was dead, Wreck was still the Gar, and the war was over.

Reptilion

His body dropped back, falling into his chair and fought off the disbelief just enough to allow a decade and a half's worth of stress and pressure to fall off his frame. The theories and experimentations had begun long before that, but it wasn't until Mindwipe had joined the Wardens of the Tartarun Gates that the clock truly started ticking. He let his head drop back and he gazed up at the dark, dusty ceiling above, taking in the details of the multitude of arachnid webs covering it nearly entirely. He really wasn't much at housecleaning, though who cared? Guests were rare, the majority of which were slobs like him, and the two royals and one noble who'd ever been here, Shockwave, Soundwave and Lugnut Boltax, had not stepped foot in this portion of his facility. Not that the other sections were much cleaner, but they truly didn't care about his housecleaning tendencies. They weren't visiting to share energon rations over a table, they were only interested in the weapons he made for them.

But these creations, this monumental achievement, was not for the Waves, Boltax, or that commoner Megatron. This was for him, and for his fellow Cult of the Sparkeater brothers. Brothers. It was a title, little more than a frequently used term, he really didn't consider any of them brothers; frankly, he couldn't stand the vast majority of them. They just shared an interest, and they shared it for wildly varying reasons. Most members were social outcasts seeing this as a way to not just fit in with a group, but to identify with powerful, irresistible creatures of legend. Creatures that society, the same society that had been tormenting them their entire existence, was terrified of. Others saw it as a possible way of becoming something more powerful than they currently were. Reptilion though, he was attracted to it in part due to the latter reason; who wouldn't want to be more powerful? But the primary drive was his own unquenchable scientific curiosity. Did they really exist? Something spawning the legend must have, why else build the Tartarun Gates and maintain a veritable army there for fifteen million years? Were they really that powerful? Likely not, though they must pose a very real threat for a Guardian to spend his entire existence standing vigil, and Mindwipe had been very clear that not only did the Guardian exist, but was every bit as big and powerful looking as legend depicts. There was undoubtedly something there, something more than just spark and metal, but what? What could be beneath the mountains there? What were the creatures trapped beneath a vault door thirty feet thick, a vault door that according to legend took Solus decades to construct and perfect?

'Well, perhaps not perfect,' the scientist mused as he peered down at another device that had taken him years to complete. Unlike the technorganic masterpieces on the far side of his lab, masterpieces that were making a painfully loud and unceasing droning, this device had been completed a couple years before. And based on the metallurgical readings Mindwipe had covertly taken while reciting his oaths of loyalty to the unsuspecting Guardian nearly a decade and a half ago, this device should prove sufficient to penetrate Solus's impenetrable gate. He scrutinized it, every detail, the boring structure, one which would use lasers, plasma bursts and good old fashioned dimoniam drill bits to cut through anything, the main box-like structure that housed a small, implosion type nuclear device, and the small propulsion jets mounted at the four corners of the end opposite the boring structure, with the control panel nestled between the four jets. It was the key; the key to finding out once and for all whether these majestic creatures truly existed, and if so, if they lived up to the legends they inspired.

Deciding that he had basked in the glory of his completion long enough, Reptilion reached forward toward the desk in front of him and opened up a communications channel. After a few buzzes it was finally answered by the familiar voice of Shokaract. "Who is this?"

"Get word to Mindwipe that it's done. We're ready. At least, I'm ready." Reptilion replied with a smile, a smile that widened as the pause on the other end seemed to stretch on.

"What?" A disbelieving Shokaract stammered back. "You're joking, right?"

"I don't joke, you know that." Reptilion replied.

"I…I can't believe it." Shokaract stated. "Like, your first trial batch is done?"

"The first successful trial batch was done some time ago." Reptilion responded with annoyance dripping from his voice. "I'm telling you that the swarm is complete."

"I…I…well, there are preparations to be made." The voice on the other end sputtered.

"Then make them. But know that any call I get from a frantic, insane Mindwipe will be forwarded to you." Reptilion snapped as he once again reached forward to press a button on the console. "Reptilion out."

Trepan

The short ride had been beyond pleasant, the transport Emir Onyx had chosen to take them to the dig site was far and away the most luxurious vehicle he had ever had the good fortune to travel in. It was so comfortable, so well equipped with the highest quality energon-based beverages, and staffed with servants skilled at attending to every need and desire, regardless of what that desire may be. The planet's foremost neurocyberologist almost wished the journey from the Draconyx Lair, citadel of House Onyx, and the dig site in the vast boneyard fields of Nyon had been longer. Even Ogrus Onyx had proven to be a pleasant companion, full of questions and observations. He was by no means intelligent, but he wasn't an idiot either, as most on the planet assumed.

The door was lowering, transitioning into the ramp that would lead them to the barren metal and rock that had been home to the treasure unearthed nine years ago, revealing six large, hulking robots in matching green and purple coloration. "Emir Onyx, thank you for gracing us with your presence." One of the two in the front called out, one Trepan recognized as Lord Scrapper Masonis from the files Emir Onyx had given him to read over, and Trepan subdued a grin as Scrapper bowed to the emir of Nyon, a motion followed immediately by the others in his group, including the other one standing in the center, the notoriously arrogant Hook of House Narkissos. Ogrus smiled at noting the looks of confusion on the faces of Scrapper, Hook and their four common-born colleagues at seeing the gray and red Trepan. Scrapper shook off his confusion at the unexpected and unknown guest and continued on. "We know that you will be more than pleased by the work we have done."

"I had better be." Ogrus grumbled. "It took you a shade under a decade to finish.

"This was no mere renovation, Emir Onyx," Hook replied, showing the slightest bit of humility, which for him was impressive, "this was the complete reconstruction of the shell mode of a living transformer, a transformer that defies everything we know of our own bio-mechanical science. And we had to do all of this reconstruction without damaging it's natural bio-shape mode or any of its internal workings."

"Fine, fine, it was a difficult task." Ogrus grumbled dismissively as he and the slender Trepan walked past the contracted green and purple foreigners toward the gigantic structure in the distance. Ogrus stopped to take it in, and was amazed. "It truly is Fortress Trypticon rebuilt."

"No sir, it's more." Hook smirked. "Like a true triptych, there's a third aspect to it, a more civilian-friendly city-center."

"You altered my specifications?" Ogrus grumbled.

"No sir, but the natural transformation hinges and mechanisms naturally lent themselves to a third mode." Scrapper added quickly. "Nothing on the mobile fortress mode or the core creature mode was compromised by this addition."

Ogrus stared at him for a moment before nodding. "Good, that had better be the case."

"Sir," Scrapper increased his pace so that he was walking next to Ogrus. He was a lower noble than Hook, but Ogrus liked him much, much better. "even clinically brain dead, this structure is a living being with a pulsing spark, a spark of inconceivable power, and the possibility of spasms, tremors or other activities is, well, likely to say the least. And a spasm from a creature like this, well sir, it'd be a seismic event. I'm not completely comfortable giving the all clear for occupation with this structure."

"This is not the first time you've expressed these concerns, Lord Masonis, and you are correct to express them." Ogrus replied, polite but annoyed at the same time. "I assure you that they have been noted and are being addressed."

"Being addressed by who," Hook snapped back, jerking his thumb at Trepan, "him?"

Ogrus stopped and turned to the team, looking over them with a look that wasn't malevolent, but one that certainly qualified as displeased. "The six of you have done an exceptional job, and you will be rewarded accordingly. But your services are no longer required. Please collect your belongings and leave the emirate of Nyon. Your payment will be sent to you at a later time." The emir whipped back around and continued on toward the giant structure. "Come, Trepan."

"Trepan?" Hook muttered in surprise.

"You boys did do a splendid job." Trepan remarked glibly as he continued on after Emir Onyx. "I'm certain Lord Shockwave is impressed with you, or would be were he capable of feeling such things." The six construction workers could only stop and stare in disbelief at the stranger as he and Ogrus continued on.

"I thought you said you did not know Shockwave of House Torrent." Ogrus stated as they reached the vast structure.

"I do not, though I have heard things said regarding his personality, or rather, lack of one." Trepan replied.

"Those things you've heard are correct," Ogrus answered back, "but mind your tone when speaking of a royal. You are the foremost authority in your field, and I value you greatly, but remember your place, commoner."

"Of course, Emir Macht, I apologize for the disrespect." Trepan apologized.

"No harm done, just don't let it happen again." Ogrus instructed, and the two continued on in silence until reaching the vast central command center, where they found Shockwave scrutinizing holographic designs of some of the inner workings of the structure. "Lord Shockwave, it is good to see you again."

"Emir Onyx," Shockwave replied without looking up, "what a pleasant surprise. What brings you to Fortress Trypticon?"

"I am here to thank you for your hard work, and to offer my eternal friendship." Ogrus replied, his answer causing Shockwave to finally look away from the schematics and directly at the visitors. "But your presence here is no longer required."

Shockwave stared at Ogrus for a few moments before finally responding. "There is so much work here left undone, I would rather stay to see it through. I have only just completed the full mapping of this beast's brain module."

"Wonderful, please provide your findings to Trepan here before collecting your things and making your way back to Harmonex." Ogrus stated.

Shockwave turned his lone optic toward Trepan and seemed to evaluate him thoroughly. "I am familiar with Trepan's work and reputation. He would likely prove to be an asset to our efforts here, but I hardly think he is capable of replacing me."

"Probably not, but he should be sufficient to complete the task." Emir Onyx replied. "And I have already claimed too much of your time an effort for something that has nothing to do with your House or emirate. You are a prominent member of a royal house, with your intellect you'll likely be Emir of Praxus in the vorns…nay, years to come. Your place is in Harmonex. And frankly, I'd really rather not field another call from Lightwave asking why you're spending so much time in Nyon."

"I doubt Lightwave misses my presence in Harmonex." Shockwave replied.

"I'm afraid my decision is final, Lord Shockwave." Ogrus dropped authoritatively. "Please bring Trepan up to speed on all of your work here, and travel home safely with my most sincere gratitude."

"As you wish, Emir Onyx." Shockwave replied, and then watched Ogrus march out before turning to Trepan. "It appears that you have Ogrus's trust."

Trepan chuckled as he walked closer to Shockwave. "For whatever reason he seems not to trust you, Shockwave."

"No, ever since that idiot Grimlock opened his mouth, he's suspected that I've, well," Shockwave shrugged, "he's suspected some form of the truth."

"Yes, he has." Trepan replied as he began looking over the data pads arranged neatly on the desk in front of Shockwave. "Good thing for him I'm so trustworthy." He started chuckling as he picked on of the data pads up and scrutinized it. "You know, this little project of Onyx's kept us both from the grand assembling. Apparently he's chosen a name for us."

"Yes, Decepticons." Shockwave mumbled as he punched in a command on the keyboard of the desk's terminal. "Not what I would have picked, but it evokes our Grand Deception origins and it is somewhat catchy for the rank and file." A moment later a large, holographic image of a long, oddly shaped brain hovered above the table.

"So that's what this creature's brain looks like?" Trepan turned away from the tablet in his hand and studied the hologram.

"No, that's what this creature's brain looked like when it was healthy." Shockwave answered. "I suppose the overall shape is about the same, it's managed to heal to that degree, but the finer aspects are all damaged beyond the point of recovery…at least on its own. I've outlined the methods needed for the reconstruction that will not only heal it, but rebuild it into a brain module akin to one of ours."

"Yes, that's why Ogrus brought me in now." Trepan responded as he placed the data pad on the table and pulled out a small holocube from a compartment on his side. He activated the holocube, to create a smaller image of a more standard cybertronian brain module. "He has a specific brain he wants beastie's remade into, and is planning on using overwriting techniques I pioneered to make turn this thing into a mountain sized version of House Onyx's most loyal vassal."

Shockwave took a step toward the smaller holographic image. "Who's brain is this?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Trepan chuckled, but at noting Shockwave turn his optic toward him and silently stare in what seemed to be annoyed anticipation, he finally answered. "Have you ever heard of Triptych?"

Shockwave remained silent for a moment, a clear indication that Trepan was correct, this was difficult for the large purple royal to believe. "Saurus Onyx's mentor? The namesake for his fortress...for this living recreation of that fortress? He must be at least thirteen million years old."

"Over seventeen million years old." Trepan countered with a grin. "Older than the Knights. Older than the sparkeaters. Old enough to remember the demon gods with five faces. He was born in the Primeval Age!"

"How can he still live?" Shockwave muttered. "I suppose we have the potential to be immortal, but in reality it has never come to pass."

"Not coming to pass for poor Triptych either." Trepan chuckled. "Been suffering through Cybercrosis for decades now, being kept alive in a field of gaseous energon, but the prolonging of his life is about at an end. I guess this their last grasp at immortality for him."

"I've read of your overwriting techniques; they would involve replication, not transference." Shockwave stated without any feeling as he continued to scrutinize the image of Triptych's brain module. "Triptych's will remain in his withering body, and when he dies, he will die like everyone else. This beast, this…Trypticon, will at best have his memories, thought patterns, and behavior, but it will be someone else, a mental twin of sorts, but an entirely separate individual. This is not immortality."

"You said 'at best' this creature will have Triptych's memories, thought patterns and behavior." Trepan said. "Do we really want what's best?" He asked, presenting a grin.

"Not what's best for Ogrus Onyx." Shockwave answered. "Keep what memories you can, but ultimately we do not what this creature's loyalties to be with House Onyx…or anything other than the Decepticons. You're the foremost mnemosurgeon on the planet, I'm sure you can achieve this."

Trepan grinned as he too leaned in close to the image of Triptych's brain. "I'm always up for a challenge."

Nightbeat

It had been over a million years since anyone but him had stepped foot in this facility. That seemed like a common exaggeration, but in this case, it was the honest truth. Nighbeat had been datamining this subterranean structure for days now, and was just now starting to break through the protective measures that the owner of this facility had put into place to guard his secrets. Jhiaxus was brilliant, but his position in Guardian Prime's inner circle and being given carte blanche to do whatever he wished with absolute support, at least discreetly, had made him less careful than he probably would have been otherwise, and this lack of care had given Nightbeat a way into his files.

Nightbeat had returned to Cybertron six years ago, having been unable to find the Manifest or its crew. Sentinel Prime had been disgusted, and had demoted him to the level of beat cop in Iacon, forbidding him access to any official resources concerning the Manifest, Guardian Prime, or even anything tied to Gallus Honorum prior to his becoming Prime. That had all but blocked off any of his attempts to continue his own investigation into the final resting place of the Manifest, but Sentinel Prime had said nothing about the possessions of other members of the crew. In most cases that fact made little difference. Any personal record Galvatron would have kept would have been in Darkmount, deep within Polyhex, and nobody was allowed access to the ruins without an invitation from Emir Macht, something Nightbeat certainly wasn't going to be getting. Galvatron's chief lieutenants, Cyclonus and Scourge, were little more than soldiers, so there was little chance of them knowing anything about the mission beyond what was on the official record, much less them leaving any clue of it; and even if they had, any residence or safe haven for them would also be deep within Polyhex as well. Other officers like Landmine, Grindcore, Mindset and so on would have had less chance of being aware of any ulterior motive of Guardian Prime's than even Scourge, so even those that lived in friendlier, more accessible cities and emirates would provide nothing.

But Jhiaxus would been aware of any non-official aspect of the voyage. Hell, whatever ulterior motives that there could be would be more than likely the brainchild of Jhiaxus. And unlike the inaccessible Nova Cronum of Guardian Prime or Polyhex of Galvatron, Jhiaxus hailed from Uraya. Born just outside Crystal City to a house of low nobility who has since died out, Jhiaxus had many possessions in the southern polar region, including the long hidded facility that had taken Nightbeat nearly six years to discover and gain access to. And House Trion was always welcoming to those that visited their emirate. Granted, they couldn't know what he was doing or what he'd be searching for, but it really didn't matter. Despite the majority of their border being surrounded by the contentious Polyhex, they were very open about the personal freedoms of their residents, even visitors, and Nightbeat had little difficulty going wherever he wanted without being noticed.

Sifting through official records of aliases of Jhiaxus's he had discovered had made him aware of the subterranean property he was in now, and it only took a couple days of mining to gain access to the physical facility. Another six days of exhaustive hacking in the vast computer network, he was finally in Jhiaxus's cache of secured files. They were still coded, but breaking codes was protoform-play to him. A bit of translation revealed a term he had come into contact with years before while studying the history of the senate while a student at the Iaconian Police Academy. 'Ferrotaxis', a device that in theory could cyberform an organic world. A large percentage of the senate considered it to be a fantastic idea, a great way to make mudballs more habitable to Cybertronians. But the loss of life would be exceptional, so one point four five million years ago, Guardian Prime ordered the project abandoned. Oddly though, this file had been updated last less than one point two million years ago. Why?

It took over an hour to decode the most recent file in the Ferrotaxis folder, and when he did it was just a note. 'Final entry, Helios-3 testing facility completed. Final transfer of data already commencing. Back-up archive status initiated.' "Helios-3?" Nightbeat questioned out loud. He wasn't familiar with any location named Helios. Likely a designation assigned by and strictly for Jhiaxus. Nightbeat leaned back in the large chair in the dimly lit facility and considered the name. Why would Jhiaxus move testing of the Ferrotaxis? Was the facility compromised in some way? Was it insufficient for whatever Jhiaxus had planned? The Ferrotaxis had been ordered scrubbed, was Guardian Prime on the cusp of finding this place? If so, why wasn't the data, including evidence of work after the official scrub date, purged? Jhiaxus wasn't afraid of this being discovered, at least, not discovered by an entity or organization with resources to penetrate his good, but not impregnable security. From what he'd learned of Guardian Prime in the years Sentinel Prime had ordered him to track him, it was beyond plausible Guardian Prime would have been OK with Jhiaxus continuing his work, provided he was discreet about it.

Was that the reason for the move, discretion? Or had the development of the project progressed to the point where it required more room? Or was it safety concerns? Actually, that was likely given what the Ferrotaxis was intended to do. Cyberform worlds…not the sort of project you'd like to test in a populated area, or anywhere on Cybertron. Off world? Possible, hell, plausible, hell, likely. Once the Ferrotaxis advances to a certain point, one would have to take it off world, and Jhiaxus would certainly have the means to do so. But Nightbeat had observed all of the colony worlds he heard whisper of, to varying degrees, and none appeared to possess any degree of cyberforming that wasn't done by long established and labor intensive methods that he was already aware of. If this Helios-3 facility was on any of the colony worlds he had observed, then it would seem that Jhiaxus never actually activated the Ferrotaxis.

Helios-3. Helios-3. Perhaps a clue could be found in the nomenclature. Helios sounds like a name derived from old Cybertronian, some sort of carryover from the Primal Vernacular. Many of the high house family names are derived from the Primal Vernacular, as are scientific and medical terms…as are astronomical terms! The planet Beest was listed as Gamma Pavonis-2 on the star charts, Gamma Pavonis the name of the star, two representing the second planet closest to it in its system. Was Helios a star?

Nightbeat spent the next hour pouring through and translating Jhiaxus's coded files, scrutinizing anything that could possibly be related to Helios in any way…and then he found it. A log entry from a million and a half years ago. 'Perfect candidate, outer rim of our galaxy, G-type main sequence yellow dwarf, age approximately four point six billion years, orbited by eight planets, at least three dwarf planets and many other smaller bodies. I've dubbed it Helios. Of interest is the third planet from this star, the system's densest planet, and one swarming with life; all organic. No hyperdense energy cluster is present. Solid iron inner core, liquid outer core, and convecting mantle that drives plate tectonics. Vast quantities of liquid and non-liquid water. Perfect temperature range, near-perfect size, devoid of mechanoid lifeforms, no higher functioning indigenous lifeforms or colonizing species of any kind. Were I not a devout atheist I would speculate that The Hand created this world for the sole purpose of becoming our first Neo-Cybertron.'

Thirty more minutes of fishing gave Nightbeat the astronomical coordinates.

Roller Pax

This was so stupid. Why were they putting him through this; the entire House through this? Nominate a fifteen year old the very day he turns fifteen, for the office of Emir. Smart. Even those who want Olnius out aren't going to vote for someone one day out of childhood. They would collect the votes, he would lose, and the entire pointless fiasco would only cheapen all future attempts to replace Olnius with a stronger leader. Roller grumbled inaudibly to himself as he stood up from his chair and paced across his dormancy chamber and slumped onto his slab. So stupid and counterproductive…and yet he had accepted the nomination. Yeah, his acceptance was mainly to show Loronus and Stronghold that he wasn't a hypocrite, but that wasn't the only reason. He genuinely felt he could lead The Torus Heights…that he needed to lead The Torus Heights. It didn't seem so stupid and counterproductive when looking into Torenia's optics for assurance…and receiving it.

A knock at his door tore him from his thoughts. "Yes?"

"It's time kid." Stronhold's voice came through. Roller sprung up and walked over to the door, opening it and almost glaring at Stronghold. The large robot gave a look of friendly surprise. "What?"

"I'm going to get my ass handed to me, aren't I?" Roller grumbled.

"You're getting at least a few votes, kid." Stronghold replied, giving a reassuring smile as he cupped his shoulder and led him down the hallway. "You're young, but much of the house, most of the house really, has been admiring what you've been doing all these years. I don't know if it's enough to get them to vote for you, but it's something."

"This would have had a great deal more legitimacy if I'd have been a few years older." Roller stated as they passed other dormancy chambers on their way to the Sanctum.

"We both know that House Pax doesn't have a few more years." Stronghold replied. "We need to ratchet up the preparations now if we're to have any chance of living through what's going to happen, and for that to happen we need an emir willing to do that ratcheting."

"You're right, but I'm only one day into the age of self-determination." Roller replied. "If only Orion were here. He'd make a great emir."

"Hmmm, maybe. Can't say for sure." Stronghold replied as they reached the double-doors of the Sanctum. "I had a high opinion of the kid, but I haven't seen him handle the situations I've seen you handle. You may have to accept the likelihood that you've surpassed him, assuming he's still alive."

"He's still alive," Roller muttered quietly pushing open the doors, "and either way, I still wish he were here." Sixty one members of House Pax turned to look at the two newcomers, all members of the house were present save Plianus Pax, who was serving out his vorn of duty to the Wardens up in Taenarus. One absence was nowhere near enough to call off this vote. "Looks like we're the last to arrive."

"Always like making an entrance, don't you?" The slender Parcher Pax chuckled out from the center of the room. Seven benches, each one hundred thirty five feet long, had been brought to the large room, the vastly more attractive and comfortable furniture that was normally in place moved out to fit the benches, which were there specifically for a more orderly and efficient election.

"Let's get this over with." Roller replied as he walked toward the center of the room, noting the intense looks everyone was giving him, particularly Olnius Pax. The Emir wasn't displaying an unfriendly look, just one of strong interest. Probably pity, Roller thought, it would be appropriate given the humiliating landslide that the youth was in store for. He turned down one of the aisles of benches and took his seat near the center, a small fire in the fireplace providing a bit of ambiance, and nothing else.

Emir Pax smiled and nodded at Roller's request and turned to Nelonia Pax, a short, slender House Pax Vice Emir who was standing near the doorway. "Lady Nelonia, would you please bring these proceedings to order?"

"Of course, Emir Pax." Nelonia replied with a smile. "If you would all please take your seats." It took a few minutes for the dozens of Pax's to finish shuffling into the rows of benches and sit. "Thank you all. Sixty-three of the sixty-four members of House Pax are present, some of us traveling from the various corners of Cybertron to be here; only Portus Pax is unable to attend, his duty to the Wardens of the Gates preventing him from taking part in the choosing. But even without him, we have more than enough to hold the election today…in fact, Portus's absence could possibly be of benefit to the process, as with an odd number we can avoid the possibility of a tie."

"I don't think it would come to that, even if Portus were here." Olnius remarked, attempting to add a bit of humor to make his comment not seem so arrogant, but not quite hitting the mark.

"Perhaps." Nelonia replied. "Do either of the candidates have any final comments prior to the casting of the ballots?"

Olnius stood up. "You all know me, you all know my record. I don't claim to be the greatest emir in House Pax history, I certainly don't claim to be nearly as good as Arlon Pax, and should a candidate superior to me have presented themselves, I'd have gladly stepped aside. I like Roller Pax, he has many admirable qualities, but he is NOT a superior candidate. He is young, he is inexperienced, and his decisions are too influenced by his passions for him to be a good emir at this time. In a vorn or two that will all have changed and he may become the Pax we all hope, and Arlon believed, he will be, but he is not there yet. He is nowhere near that. His actions are rash, and they will lead us to war, one we cannot win. He will serve as best he can based on what he thinks is best, but what he thinks is best is definitely not. Things with Nova Cronum and the Prime are bad, in part because of his actions over these last fourteen years, but we are NOT on the cusp of an invasion. His claims are exaggerations. His actions will be catastrophic to our House. I ask you all to vote wisely, as I know you will. Thank you all." Olnius sat back down and nodded to several members of the House.

"Lord Roller?" Nelonia looked to the youth.

Roller met her gaze and nodded before standing up. "This will be brief, I really did not prepare anything to say. It all boils down to the fact that Olnius would make a far better peacetime emir than I would, and I would make a far better emir in times of conflict. So I ask you all to look to the actions of Sentinel Prime. Look to the weakness of the Senate and their inability to stand up to him or criticize him, even after murdering Arlon Pax. Look to our borders, where just across our lands are militarized forces; forces made up of more than just House Honorum security, armed for far more than just keeping me from crossing their territory with contraband. We have accurate estimates of the forces House Honorum has at its disposal, and we can count well enough to know that the claims that the mobilized armies almost completely surrounding our entire emirate are nearly tenfold more than the Honorum's have. Look to Sentinel Prime's increasing irrationality and aggressive posturing, his gradual change in advisors, his sacking of Prowl, censuring of Senator Xaaron, and the replacing of other reasonable and qualified advisors and leaders with sycophants fueling his ego and pushing him to serve their own selfish needs. Rabattus Decimus is rumored to have influenced him to kill Arlon, and he is his most trusted friend and confidant. If you truly believe that this Prime poses no threat to The Torus Heights and House Pax, then by all means cast your vote for Olnius; nothing would please me more than for me to be wrong. But I know that I'm not, and if you are like me, and see Sentinel Prime looking for any opportunity to act against us, then you know that we cannot have Olnius Pax leading our House. I promise you, I will not do anything to instigate a war, but we will not be flatfooted and unprepared for it should it come if I am emir." Roller sat down and directed his optics downward.

The Santum was silent for over a minute before Nelonia addressed them all again. "Thank you both. Now, candidates Olnius and Roller will be omitted from the voting, but the rest of us are to stand, file forward and cast their vote at the terminal behind me. Plianus, as you are seated on the far left of the first row, we will start with you." The brown and gold robot in the first row nodded and stood, walking forward with the other members seated in the first row rising and following him forward.

The process lasted close to an hour, as nearly half of the members needed to think a the terminal for a few minutes before casting their vote, but in time all were finished save Nelonia, who flipped a switch to reveal the vote count before casting hers. The display revealed a count of thirty votes for each candidate, making Nelonia Pax's vote the tie-breaker. She turned and looked over the other members, all staring back at her. By revealing the count prior to her casting, she not only removed the secrecy from her vote, but she also took on the burden of being the decider of who the next emir would be. Olnius smiled confidently, Nelonia was a dear friend he had known for his entire life, whereas her interactions with Roller had been few, and he had heard her scold the youth on more than a few occasions. She finally turned back to the terminal and cast her vote.

The display flickered and changed. 'Olinus Pax – 30 Roller Pax – 31'

There was a momentary hush before a burst of commotion. Cheers for Roller, hands slapping his shoulder and back in congratulations, and other gasps. Above it all, the voice of Olnius called out. "Lady Nelonia!"

The vice emir turned and looked at Olnius sorrowfully. "I'm sorry my friend, but Roller was right. Sentinel Prime cannot be trusted, and we cannot continue on without preparing for the worst. I have spoken to many of those who have been living abroad to get their perspective on the Prime, and they have all confirmed what I already know; he is unhinged, getting worse, and has his optics set on our house and our emirate. And ultimately, something Stronghold has been saying to us since yesterday has carried a great deal of weight. He simply asked who we think Arlon would vote for." Nelonia turned to the newly elected emir, who was being embraced by Torenia Pax at that moment. "Arlon would vote for Roller, and so did I."

The stunned Roller finally seemed to break out of the shock and disbelief brought on by what had just happened and managed to walk toward the front of the Sanctum to address the other members of his house. "Brothers and sisters, I would like to thank you for your support, and assure you once again that I do not seek war, but I know it will be seeking us sooner or later, and that if we are to survive, we need to prepare. There is much we need to do, but for now, I need to sit down and try to absorb all this. I didn't bother formulating a pre-vote selling of myself, it definitely didn't occur to me that I'd be needing a victory speech. I'm stunned and humbled. Thank you all…I'll have something prepared for our course of action in a few hours…but for now, I need to be alone. Thank you."

Omega Supreme

He stood vigil, as he had for millions of years, embracing the dimly lit peacefulness of the chamber. It would have driven any other being mad, but Omega Supreme was a Guardian, designed and brainwashed to serve as transport and protection for ancient masters. And while he aided in the casting out of those masters, standing vigil was still etched into his identity, still his function. And truthfully, he minded it not. He was uncomfortable around others, solitude was a comfort, silence always a welcome companion.

And then the silence ended. The murmurs and slight sounds on the other side of the vault returned, as they had done several times in recent years, but this time was louder. Then a knock. Omega Supreme turned to face the vault door. Another knock, then a third and then more. Then banging, deliberate, powerful banging. Granted, even the most powerful of the banging barely created a tap on Omega Supreme's side of the vastly thick door, but it was more commotion than he had heard from the other side since shortly after sealing them in there millions of years ago.

The banging didn't cease, it continued, it was joined by more banging, until it sounded as though an entire army was battering away futilely on the other side. Hundreds, perhaps thousands of the sparkeaters not only survived their millions of years of captivity, but where now aggressively trying to batter their way out. The gate would hold, Omega Supreme knew, but what worried him was that the sparkeaters knew this as well. Why were they charging the gate now? It was pointless, they would not gain their freedom in such a manner, and yet they persisted. While confident that they were in no danger, Omega Supreme opened a channel to the Lord Commander to make him aware of the situation. "Lord Commander Kup, please come in." There was a very long pause, one lasting over three minutes. The guardian attempted another hail. "Lord Commander, this is Omega Supreme, please respond."

"Sorry Omega Supreme, we have our hands full up here!" Kup's voice came through, the sounds of weapon's fire and chaos in the background.

"What is your situation?" A suddenly alarmed Omega Supreme asked.

"We're under siege by some sort of swarm!" Kup belted out. "They look to be insect designed shell modes of transformers, but there's thousands of them, and as far as I can tell, they have no robotic alternate mode! Hundreds have already breached the mountain!"

"I wish to help, but I cannot leave my post!" Omega Supreme replied.

"Affirmative, you stay put!" Kup bellowed as the sound of his rifle firing cut through his words. "If they get through us, we'll need you to beat them back!"

"Do they look to have the means of breaking through the final gate?" Omega Supreme asked, noting that the insect swarm sounds kept getting louder on the other end.

"Not that I can tell!" Kup barely got out before the connection was cut. It was then, with the communications signal dead, that Omega Supreme recognized that the buzzing sound of whatever this swarm was could be heard through the outer gates leading upward toward the surface. The final gate would hold, solus designed it to repel the hordes for all eternity, but the hordes below were unarmed beyond their natural weaponry. The hordes above, the guardian couldn't say.

For endless minutes the commotion continued to grow louder. Omega Supreme could hear the outer gates being breached; sometimes they were blown apart, and sometimes they seemed to be breached without much demolition, as though the gates were raised or entrance were cut or worn though. Finally the last gate before Omega Supreme's chamber was being beset. Clangs of metal hitting the metal of the gate echoed through the chamber. The guardian raised both his cannon arm and his claw and prepared for combat.

Suddenly the gate split open, as though opened through legitimate means, and a flood of black and purple flying, jumping and crawling giant metal insects blasted into the chamber. Omega Supreme blasted away through the swarm, causing vast damage, but doing nothing to put a real dent in their numbers. He battered away, he ignited the thruster built into his claw hand, incinerating dozens, but on more came, surrounding him, bypassing him, filling the chamber.

"Omega Supreme!" A tiny voice called out through the deafening hum of the invading creatures.

Omega Supreme looked down, and through a few tiny gaps of the swarm he caught sight of Mindwipe, firing into the swarm but backing up toward the guardian. He seemed scared, but fought on bravely, continuing to be pushed back. He had a large device strapped to his back, but Omega could not pay the attention needed to try and figure out what it was. "Warden Mindwipe, where are your brothers?"

"Most of the Wardens have fallen!" He called out, but disappeared as dozens of insects flew between the two.

The guardian couldn't worry about one Warden, and continued trying to incinerate the insects en-mass. He was killing dozens, hundreds with his flame and cannon, but more just kept flooding into the chamber. He whipped his arms around, swatting and sending his flames throughout the chamber, and as he spun he caught sight of Mindwipe, all the way back at the vault door, mounting the device that had been on his back. "Mindwipe, what are..." A blast caught Omega Supreme in the back, forcing him to stumble forward a bit. He turned back upward toward the breached outer door to see, through the swarm, a moderately large robot with various crustacean limbs jutting from his frame, flanked by a half dozen other robots on either side of him. "Who are you? How dare you try to unleash this ancient evil on the world?"

The robots all opened fire on the guardian, most of the shots hitting the multitude of insects hovering between them, and the few shots getting through doing nothing to the guardian. Omega Supreme stalked forward toward the armed intruders, blasting at them as he did. He killed two with his initial blast, another two with his second. The rest of the group scattered, looking for shelter in the deep, warm, dark cavern.

"It's in!" Omega Supreme turned to see Mindwipe sprinting toward and then past him. "Fall back!" The darkly colored and winged Warden yelled, and the intruders did as he commanded.

"TRAITOR!" Omega Supreme roared before turning to see what he had done to the wall. He waved away dozens of insects to get a look at the vault door, and noticed a small hole where Mindwipe had mounted his device. He strode closer, intent on undoing whatever the traitorous bastard had done, but the hole was so low and so narrow, he wasn't sure what he could do with his large claw and cannon. He finally reached the door and knelt, trying to stoop low enough to peer in. As he got near the hole he could hear the sounds of drilling from within, but just as he got to where he could look in, the sounds ceased. He looked closely in the dark and noted that the drill had gone roughly fifteen feet…about to the midpoint of the door. He straightened up to reposition himself, specifically to position his cannon at the mouth of the hole so that he could obliterate that device, whatever it may be. A beep suddenly emerged through the cut hole.

It was black. Everything was black. He hadn't known how long he had been lying in the blackness. He was suddenly aware of the intense pain coursing through his entire frame. Burning, scorching pain throughout most of his exterior. Mangled twisting pain throughout everything else. It was agony. He moved slightly, probably his right arm or shoulder, though he really couldn't tell. He was beyond disoriented, though he was quickly piecing things together. There was a cave-in…no, it must have been an explosion. That drill must have been an explosive device, and the blast must have caused a cave in. He hadn't even heard the blast, it must have knocked him off line the moment it went off. The gate! Omega Supreme shifted, causing tons of metal and rock to pour off of him. He needed to verify that the gate was still intact. He pushed through more tons of metal and rock, the dust so thick in the air that he wouldn't have been able to see much even if there was an adequate light source, which there wasn't. But through the darkness he started to see tiny slits of light moving quickly past. A sound not far from him drew his attention, and through the dust and darkness he was able to see…no. No. NO!

One of the monsters was free. A sparkeater, a hideous beast, somewhat humanoid in appearance, but his black and red frame opening into a vile trap to suck the energy out of a captured insect. The dying insect had its power flowing out of it, but Omega Supreme did not notice a spark emerge from it. The sparkeater then seemed to sense something, something that was alarming to it, and looked up into Omega Supreme's optics. It was a sight common to the guardian fifteen million years before; his ignis numen had always driven the demons wild with hunger-lust. The beast started to climb over the debris toward the pinned guardian, but a thunderous voice stopped it. "NO!" Omega Supreme filled with dread at the sound, a voice he had hoped never to hear again. "Find another! The guardian is mine!"

Omega Supreme twisted his head just enough so that he could see burning red optics cutting through the darkness, the shadow of long horns on either side and in the front of the monstrous head that stood forty feet off the ground. "Violen Jiger." Omega Supreme growled weakly.

"I will feast on this world, guardian!" The voice of death snarled. "And not you or a thousand Knights will stop me this time."


	15. Chapter 15

Cosmos

"No." The yellow and blue robot continued down the hall, his pace quick and intense, indicating that Cosmos's initial 'no' had gone ignored. Cosmos waited until Nightbeat entered his office and shut the door before continuing with his refusal. "I said no."

"I haven't asked you for anything yet." Nightbeat replied.

"You're about to." The short green and yellow robot replied as he stood up from his chair and started walking around his desk toward his visitor. The office was small, one tucked into the second floor corner of the Honorus Spaceport in central Iacon. "And I have a pretty good idea of what it's going to be."

"Oh, and what's that?" The detective asked.

"How's this for deductive reasoning?" The rotund robot with a yellow face covered by a red helmet as well as a yellow plate covering his mouth and nose began. "My pal Nightbeat, who I haven't seen or even heard from in over a decade, who until a few years ago had been given carte blanche from Prime to gain access to whatever resources he wanted, who utilized those resources to go on more off-world trips than anyone else since way before either of us was born, a friend who not only had that carte blanche seemingly revoked but who also wound up being blacklisted from Guardian Spaceport, now shows up unannounced in my tiny hidden office in this secondary spaceport…"

"More like tertiary." Nightbeat interrupted.

"Really?" Cosmos barely managed to cross his arms over his rounded torso as he came to a stop before his taller guest and leaned back onto the front of his desk. "Perhaps my assumption was wrong. You wouldn't be an insulting dick were you coming here to ask for an impossible favor."

"Uhm, well…"

"How about you let me finish my game of play detective then, huh?" Cosmos continued. "Whatever Sentinel wanted you to do with all those classified off-world jaunts, it appears you failed. But I know you well enough to know you don't just let things go, sooooo, you're here to finish whatever it was you started."

Nightbeat smiled. "Maybe Sentinel should have chosen you. You seem to be a better detective than I am lately."

"Yes, it required all my powers of deduction to figure out what you were up to." Cosmos batted back sarcastically. "You're persona-non-grata in every spaceport in Nova Cronum, and you're thinking good ol' Cosmos is just going to loan out a starhopper to you?" The short, rotund robot shook his head. "Look Beat, we're friends and all, but Prime would have me on orbital trash detail were I to do that."

Nightbeat just stared evenly at his friend for a moment before responding. "Look Cosmos, there's been an event in The Torus Heights that will have Sentinel Prime distracted for the foreseeable future, and I know for a fact that you have a starhopper that's been collecting dust in the sub-basement levels for over three million years."

"So, and, so?" Cosmos replied. "The election of the kid in the frozen wastes is barely a blip, and even under feet of dust, a starhopper is extremely valuable and off limits to you."

"It's not just the election of a kid, it's that the election of THAT kid serves as an excuse for Sentinel to initiate hostilities with The Heights." Nightbeat replied as he backed up and took a seat on a chair that was against the wall next to the door he had walked through moments before. "He's been praying for an opportunity like this for years. Trust me, there's nothing outside his impending attack on House Pax that's going to catch his attention."

"I'd be risking my career, my very station in life, on that assumption." Cosmos replied.

"Actually, you might be risking more than that." Nightbeat corrected with a lopsided grin. "But it's a safe assumption. Nobody knows or remembers this thing exists; the only reason I do is because I went looking through old inventory files for a craft that would likely have been forgotten. And it really will be a quick excursion. I should be there and back before Prime's invasion even begins, much less afterward when he has time to focus on anything else."

"Uh-huh." Cosmos replied as he looked down at the floor for a moment and chuckled lightly, before turning his gaze back up at his visitor. "Not that it matters, because I'm going to say no, but where exactly is 'there'?"

"That's classified." The detective replied, knowing full well that answer would never be accepted.

"Bunk, pal." Cosmos responded as anticipated. "It WAS classified when you were operating under the authority of Prime. But you've been shit-canned, meaning nothing you do is classified anymore."

Nightbeat paused, knowing that the true answer was not going to sway Cosmos into helping him any more than his attempt at stonewalling had. "That's not really how it works, Cosmos, I'm still bound to keep my trap shut, but slag it, it's called Helios-3."

"Never heard of it."

"Not surprising, it isn't on any of our star charts." Nightbeat replied. "It's a wholly organic world in the outskirts of the galaxy. Jhiaxus considered it for…colonization." The detective decided to hold back on the legendary scientist's actual intentions for the planet.

"Jhiaxus?" Cosmos planted his hands on the edge of his desk and asked with genuine surprise. "As in, THE Jhiaxus? Guardian Prime's scientific advisor? Inner circle? Mad scientist super-genius…Jhiaxus?"

"Yes, Jhiaxus." Nightbeat answered.

"What the hell did Prime have you working on?" Cosmos asked with enthusiasm.

"That truly is classified." Nightbeat explained. "I didn't complete my mission quickly enough for Sentinel, but I know that I can complete it. I'm confident that Helios-3 holds the key to achieving my goal, but I have to get there first." The blue and yellow detective studied his friend as Cosmos peered back down at the floor, deep in thought. It was too much for him to ask Cosmos, the risk really was too great to his friend. But he was nearly done, and should he return with the Matrix, Sentinel Prime would forgive any trespass. And should he return with a revived Guardian Prime, then Sentinel Honorum's displeasure would amount to less than nothing. He felt dirty doing it, but Cosmos needed to be manipulated into doing what was necessary. "Look Cosmos, I should not have asked. You're a good friend, better than I deserve. Much better. I've withdrawn, not just from you, from everybody. I've been a self-centered jerk. And here I come, not to patch up a neglected friendship, but to ask a favor, a favor that can get you into a tremendous amount of trouble." Nightbeat stood up and turned toward the door. "I'm sorry Cosmos, please forget I came today."

"Wait." The word came out just as the door started opening. "Shut the door and sit back down." Nightbeat nodded and did as he was told. After a long pause Cosmos continued. "You're right about that ship. Totally forgotten, I'm pretty sure I'm the only one aware of it. I'll arrange for you to take it, but you need to promise that your exit and re-entry will go unnoticed. Starhopper 24837 may be forgotten, but it's not untraceable."

"Thanks pal, I owe you one."

"You're damn right about that."

Militus Macht

He was not Jugatus. Some could see this banquet and the rewards he was about to bestow upon Megatron as an attempt to buy him off; he himself saw it that way. But while he would make Megatron a lord, grant him a title and lands, lands vast and possessing veins of energon, with no less than thirteen hotspots from which he could choose to build House Megatronus upon, he would not be granting the gladiator entrance into House Macht. This justification swirled about his head as he looked upon the servants finishing their preparation of the great ceremonial table of Castle Macht's main dining chamber. It would only be the two of them, he and Megatron, but this was to be seen as symbolic. Not only the elevation of a commoner to the level of high lord, but the creation of a great house. It was a high price, but if the rumors of the Pentiathan convocation were even the least bit true, either a great offering or a great intervention would be required. Militus Macht needed a better understanding of what he faced before intervening, so for now, he was buying Megatron off.

"Emir Macht?" The servant's voice drew Militus's gaze up toward the door. Upon confirming Emir Macht's attention, the servant, File, smiled and bowed her head. "Megatron of Tarn is here."

"Show him in." Militus responded as he turned back toward the table and gave it one last evaluation. Flavored energon, chips and fluid, both pure and tainted engex, lined the table on immaculate crystalline plates and in goblets. Two small statues depicting Megatron in combat stood on either end of the table. A moment later Militus heard the door being pushed open and turned to greet his guest. "Hand hold us, he's found religion."

Megatron of Tarn continued into the room and looked down at the purple engraving of the Warrior's face on his chest, smiling as he did so. "Not much fear on that account, Emir Macht. I've just always admired the look of it, and the attributes of the Warrior, courage, ruthlessness, perseverance, resourcefulness, and an unbending will, have always been the greatest of traits in my estimation. It's as if the symbol were created specifically for me."

Militus eyed the gladiator warily. "There are many a religious authority who would take issue with that statement."

"I think I've committed transgressions far more worthy of their attention than this." Megatron said as he approached Militus, noting the statues of himself with a subdued smile. "You wished to speak with me, Emir Macht?"

"Yes, thank you for coming, Megatron." Militus smiled as he reached out and clutched the gladiator's wrist in greeting. "You may not realize it yet, but what I just said is historic."

"Oh, how is that?" The chrome warrior asked as the two released their grasp of each other's arms.

"That was the last time you will be addressed without the title 'Lord' coming before your name." Militus replied before turning away from him and walking toward the table, grabbing a data pad as he got to it.

"Emir Macht?" Megatron questioned.

"I name you Jarl of the Southeastern Octant of Polyhex, an octant that includes your home Tarn." Militus announced as he grabbed a goblet of engex with one hand and handed the data pad to Megatron with the other. "You will be lord over one eighth of my emirate, answering only to House Macht. You will collect tithes from those that live there, and you will provide me with tithing, as well as providing a portion of the energon mined in your octant and any military aid I request."

Megatron studied the data pad, one listing all of his new lands and possessions, his face almost giving an air of indifference. "This truly is most generous, Emir Macht."

Noting the lack of gratitude, Militus leaned in toward his guest. "I don't think you realize how significant this is, Lord Megatron. You are now one of the wealthiest beings on the planet. You are in a position to establish your own house, and have the resources and influence to make that house as great as some of the royal houses."

"I know." Megatron looked up from the pad and met Militus's gaze. "Properly managed, the ruler of the Tarnian Octant could amass more wealth than Houses Nexus, Maximus, Ambus and possibly even Modus. I would be lying to you were I to tell you that I wasn't tempted to accept this. But ultimately, my ambition is far greater than an eighth of an emirate answering to a house that answers to a Prime. Yes, this Jarl-ship has already been presented and requires no further effort, while it will require a tremendous amount of work and risk to attain my true goal, but I have never been one to be afraid of work or risk, nor have I ever been one to settle."

The enraged, and slightly unnerved Militus backed away several steps, snarling out at his guest with venom in his voice. "I invite you to a magnificent feast, I present a gift of title and land unequalled in the history of Cybertron, I would make you more powerful and respected than any common born Cybertronian in history, and you dare to spit on my offering?"

Megatron shifted his head slightly as he considered the Emir's accusation, answering flippantly a few moments later. "Yes."

Militus continued backing away from the table, toward the door that Megatron had entered through moments before. "This has to do with the mass gathering in the badlands, doesn't it? You're involved with that group, don't bother to deny it!"

"Involved with that group?" Megatron chuckled as he slowly started taking ominous steps toward the emir. "Emir Macht, I AM that group."

"You…you've abused my charity, you've turned the many gifts I've given you against me, you've worked to undermine me!" Militus snarled as he reached the door and opened it.

"Guilty on all counts." Megatron smirked as he continued to slowly follow after the retreating emir. "Though the term charity is laughable. I was an asset used to make you money and win you prestige. It was an honest exchange, you offered me training, access to knowledge, physical enhancements, and an opportunity to prove myself in the gladiatorial circuit, and in return I won for you, garnered a fortune for you, I put on a tremendous show, I organized events, virtually ran the organization in this and other southern emirates, and earned you honor for your house and for you personally. All that you have provided me has been more than repaid."

Militus exited the room and started down the hallway. "Guards! To me!" The emir turned and sprinted, but relaxed as he saw four well-armed House Macht guards turning into the hallway to attend to him. "In there!" He slowed down and pointed back in the direction of the dining hall doors, which were just now being pushed open. "Megatron! Stop him! Cut him down, but leave him alive! I want to be the one to kill him!" The guards all nodded and raised their rifles as they advanced quickly toward the gladiator that was now exiting the dining chamber and fixing a broad grin upon them. Arrogant whelp, even as he was about to be cut to pieces he displayed an overconfidence unbefitting a noble, much less a chunk of pond scum that crawled out of a Tarnian Caverns subterranean hotspot. Militus turned back around and glared at the treacherous bastard, the emir was going to enjoy watching this jumped-up miner suffer.

Weapons-fire erupted from behind Militus, lots of it, but only two rounds zipped past him, only one of which connecting with the advancing chrome warrior, a hit to the left shoulder which only seemed to annoy Megatron. Militus turned to see what was happening to his guards and to berate them for their shit aim, but he shuddered in horror to see them being cut down from shots originating from the hallway that they had emerged from moments before. A gray, red and blue blur shot out from that hallway and transformed, the momentum propelling Starscream into the wall, which he planted his feet against and pushed off, finally landing gracefully in the center of the hallway, pointing his arm-mounted rifles down at the injured guard and opening fire one by one into their cranial shells. He looked up at Militus and displayed a smirk. "They were originally running to you to alert you to the fact that Castle Macht is under attack. That the perimeter has been breached."

Militus was initially drawn to the large, purple Warrior faces etched onto Starscream's wings, but finally noticed the sounds of muffled weapons-fire in the distance, coming from other parts of the castle and outside. "Lord Starscream, what is happening? Why have you done this?"

"This is the opening salvo of a revolution that will upend our world." Megatron announced from behind the emir, his advancing footsteps intermixed with his words and the sounds of combat going on throughout the complex. "And by our world, I'm referring to myself, Starscream, and other Decepticons. Our world is upending, your world is simply coming to an end."

Militus turned and looked at the advancing Megatron in horror. He was getting close, and Starscream was standing between he and the most accessible exit. From where he stood the only open hallway led him deeper into the castle. True, he would pass several hallways that would lead him out, but they would take him away from the bulk of his forces and require him to outrun these two over a greater distance. He knew Megatron's tank mode to be faster than his, and Starscream might very well be the fastest being on the planet. But did he really need to escape? Surely this assault would be put down in time; there's no way that Megatron could have gotten more than a few dozen conspirators anywhere near Castle Macht without them knowing well in advance. The Macht security forces would repel this attack, or at the very least the other Polyhexian great houses would come to their aid within hours; Militus only needed to remain alive for that long. He didn't need to escape, he only needed to find a secure place to wait this out.

Castle Macht was full of secure rooms, but Megatron was proving to be far more clever and resourceful than his mental test scores and early conversations would suggest. Militus had frequently considered the possibility that he had tanked his test scores, but he had always dismissed those considerations as ridiculous. They were no longer so ridiculous to him. Megatron was smart and powerful enough to gain access to all of these secure rooms within the castle…all save one. Militus turned and sprinted away from his assailants, down the hall away from where Starscream had emerged and transformed to tank mode, hitting the polished floor with treads spinning.

Megatron and Starscream followed after him casually, not bothering to transform or even to run. Within seconds Militus had turned down a side corridor and was grinding his treads over the polished metal floors as quickly as he could. Not much farther. In moments he'd be in the most secure room in the southern hemisphere, one that these upstart common-born bastards didn't have a prayer of penetrating. And if they did manage to find a way inside, they'd immediately regret it. Housed within, waiting for the Emir of Polyhex, was the most potent infantry weapon ever conceived. Infantry weapon…it only qualified as such due to it being portable and usable by a single warrior, but in every other regard it was a weapon of mass destruction, one he would be more than happy to weild against Megatron, Starscream and any other Warrior-tattooed fool that dared to rise up against him.

There it was, up ahead, through Castle Macht's Heritage Hallway, the thick metal door protecting his House's greatest treasures, and soon himself as well. "Defenses activated!" He called out as he transformed and stood before the door. Ion cannons dropped from the ceiling as red identification lasers swarmed over his frame, lasers which quickly turned green at recognizing him. "Militus Macht ordering the revocation of access to all others beside myself, and that defensive systems obliterate anyone approaching this door!" The only other members with access to this vault were his Vice-Emir Caustus Macht and his Secretary of State Affairs Manglus Macht, and if they hadn't made it to safety by now, they wouldn't be finding it here. He certainly wasn't going to allow them to be used by the invaders to gain their way in.

"Affirmative." The automated voice replied as the door rolled open.

Militus lunged in and spun around, staring back out into the empty hallway. "Seal the room!" The door rolled, and as soon as it sealed shut Militus whipped around and ran to the display case in the center of the room. "Cannon of Machtus case open." He called out, and the transparent metal hood rolled back to leave the great weapon exposed. Militus reached for it, but a wave of blue flame washed over him, sending him stumbling back and falling to the ground. "Whaaa!" He jerkingly moved his hands from the protective position over his face and glanced about, trying to ignore the stinging pain and figure out what was happening. Unfortunately for him the blue flame and even more agony than before returned, this time over his legs. "Arrrrggggghhhhhh!" The flames stopped, and he looked down at his legs to see that they were unusable, but could be repaired easily enough given a few hours in the infirmary.

"I'm sorry, Lord Macht, did that hurt?" A familiar feminine voice sang out. Militus whipped his head toward the sound and saw his beautiful assistant standing to the side of a case housing the memoirs of Machtus, a large military-grade pyro-emitter in her hands.

"File?"

"I was." She circled ominously around the fallen emir, the flame-thrower cradled threateningly in her arms. "File was a loyal servant of House Macht. A submissive commoner happy to accept the abuse hurled upon her by the royals that she worked for." She stopped next to a display, a pair of feet stretching out past it momentarily drawing Militus's attention away from File. Her optics darted down toward the feet and she smiled. "Ah, yes. Not all members of House Macht were interested in abusing me. Lord Caustus found me most appealing. He was kind, generous, he longed for my attentions and was willing to shower me with gifts to get it. His only requirement was that you not find out, which I agreed was best. I allowed him to use my body however he wished, but his generosity extended beyond just energon and baubles, he wanted me to feel pleasure. He wanted me to desire him as he desired me. It was an easy role for me to play, and his generous nature enabled me to talk him into bringing me here for our trysts. Not only did it offer privacy, but it's common knowledge that nothing is as arousing as power." She momentarily released the weapon with her left hand and waved it around at everything held within the vault. "With the suggestion that I would be open to mingling our sparks in the midst of Machtus's personal possessions, he immediately agreed to meet me here. And we have, for over two months now. Where you're laying right now is where we laid together, embracing with exposed chests, our life-energies washing over each other and becoming one." She gave a sad smile. "Truth be told, it was beyond pleasant. I plan to do it again, but with one I find worthy, one I'm genuinely attracted to." She stepped back to better look upon the remains of Caustus. "I came to like Caustus, he was a good being, something unheard of in House Macht, but at no point was I ever attracted to him." She peered sorrowfully down at the corpse that was hidden from Militus's view. "Despite that, I took no joy in killing him." She turned back and leveled her heated gaze on the Emir of Polyhex. "As I killed him, I realized that I was killing File as well, and her, I enjoyed killing. As I would enjoy killing you as well, you bastard." She smiled and backed up toward the door. "But that is not my right."

Militus watched as her hand lifted up to open the door. "File, wait, please, don't do this. I apologize for mistreating you. I will make you wealthy beyond imagining. Just, please, keep that door sealed and place the pyro-emitter on the floor."

The armed femme merely chuckled. "I told you, File was dead, and Flamewar has no interest in entertaining your pleas." She opened the door and casually aimed her weapon up at the ceiling mounted cannon to the left of the door. The cannon turned, but was unable to aim into the room. Flamewar let loose with a string of blue destruction that enveloped the cannon and melted it to the point of being inoperative. She then casually stepped over to the other side of the doorway and repeated her destructive acts with the other cannon. She then melted down the identification scanner and other security features outside the door. She raised her wrist to her mouth. "The vault has been made safe, my lord. The prisoner awaits your judgment."

She walked back over and stood over Militus with a smile on her face for several moments, meeting his hateful glare with her cruel grin. Footsteps could be heard approaching them from The Heritage Hall. Seconds later Megatron marched into the vault with Soundwave of House Torrent at his side, the purple face of the Warrior etched onto his chest. "Soundwave?" Militus painfully gasped. "But you're high-born! A true royal! How can you stand here with this mud-born piece of shit Megatron, or that jumped-up common bastard Starscream?"

Soundwave nodded. "Megatron is the greatest Cybertronian I have ever had the privilege of knowing, and Starscream is no longer here to stand with."

"I sent him off with your fastest shuttle to spearhead the destruction of House Nexus." Megatron smiled. "Should be easier than the destruction of your house. He can walk right in, sabotage whatever pathetic defenses they have, and smoke out all their members for easy extermination." The chrome gladiator stopped next to Flamewar and smiled down on her. "We never found a Macht worth recruiting, but I was able to find a trusted insider that was."

"I am honored to have been found worthy to serve one such as you, Lord Megatron." The former File replied with a bowed head and smile. "You gave an empty shell named File the opportunity to be so much more, and allowed Flamewar to be born."

"You will make a fine Decepticon, Flamewar." Megatron turned back and grinned malevolently back down at Militus. "Our movement was fortunate enough to find two worthy and trueborn sons of House Torrent to join us, so I left the destruction of that house to Shockwave so that I could keep Soundwave with me." The gladiator then turned and fixed his optics upon the Cannon of Mactus. "Are there any further security measures that I'm not aware of?"

"I'm telling you nothing!" Militus snarled, hoping that Megatron's uncertainty regarding the cannon might buy some more time.

"No, all security measures have been removed, mighty Megatron." Soundwave's harmonic voice called out. "Macht is merely hoping to delay as much as possible."

"A foolish and incorrect guess, Soundwave!" Militus snarled.

"Lord Megatron?" A voice called out from the doorway behind them. Megatron turned his head to see Straxus standing in the doorway, clutching Rossum by the upper arm and two large robots bearing faces of the Warrior, the new Decepticon sigil, behind them bearing rifles. "I've found Doctor Rossum."

"And you, Straxus?" Militus growled.

"Straxus follows strength." Megatron cocked his head toward the doomed emir as he smiled at the captured doctor. "You didn't expect genuine loyalty from him, did you? I certainly don't." The chrome gladiator then looked to Straxus. "But you've performed well, Straxus." He looked back at Rossum. "Doctor Rossum, I'm going to give you a choice. Join my Decepticons, perform whatever task I demand of you, and you will be wealthy beyond your dreams and have the freedom and resources to explore any scientific research you desire, or don't, and you will simply…"

"Stop." A broadly smiling Rossum interrupted. "Don't ruin this with threats. I will happily join your cause, Megatron of Tarn, and I don't require any fear of death or torture to do so."

"Excellent." Megatron replied. "When giving me my current armor and press enhancements you mentioned to Emir Macht that you had theoretical enhancements that I would be a suitable candidate for."

"Oh yes, I certainly do, and you certainly are." Rossum answered. "It would be a pleasure to enhance you further, but I am obliged to inform you that there will be pain involved." He smiled at Megatron's rolling of the optics. "I know it's a non-issue for one such as you, but professionalism dictates that I warn the patient."

Megatron nodded before turning back to Militus. "Now if you'll excuse me, there's a matter that needs to be resolved."

"You can't possibly think you'll succeed." Militus spat up at Megatron. He only needed to stall a bit longer. "Attacking a royal house, murdering royals, laying claim to our planet's most precious artifacts! Spare me and I can see that you live…I might even let you disappear. But kill me, the Emir of Polyhex? You'll be tortured for years before finally having your pretty green spark snuffed! You'll be overwhelmed and bound in the back of a prison transport within the hour!" Manglus must certainly have gotten word out of the attack. Assistance must only be minutes away.

"I personally killed Manglus before he realized House Macht was in any danger." Soundwave replied to MIlitus's silent considerations. "No assistance is en-route. You are the last surviving member of House Macht."

"Flamewar," Megatron muttered as he opened a panel on his right forearm, lifted the cannon out of the case, and mounted it over the newly exposed circuitry. Brackets snapped down into place over his arm, and immediately drilled into the living metal of Megatron, securing the ancient weapon as the inner circuitry of the weapon linked and interacted with his living circuitry. "Please change Emir Macht's status."

Flamewar smiled broadly up at Megatron. "With pleasure, my lord." She then turned both her gaze and her weapon back down at Militus. The downed emir raised his hand to plead with her, but a wave of blue shot forth before a word could be uttered.

Red Alert

"Yes sir, preliminary reports indicate that several hidden troop positions and mounted weapon emplacements near our westernmost border with The Torus Heights were hastily uprooted and relocated what looks to be toward the southern Heights." Red Alert listed off into the communications console. "But while their existence can be considered threatening, the removal away from the troops on our western border cannot. This re-allocation seems to indicate that they no longer wish to oppose us."

"I'm guessing they're anticipating this assault and are pulling their forces closer to Polarus." The voice of Sentinel Prime came through the speaker.

"But sir, the forces are heading south, Polarus is northwest of their position." Red Alert replied.

"Probably to throw us off." Sentinel snapped back. "It seems to be working on you."

"Sir, perhaps we should lift the communications blockade over the emirate and speak with them." Red Alert suggested, hoping, futilely in all likelihood, that Prime could be calmed and be made to see reason.

"Negative, I'm through listening to their assurances, pleas, and any other disingenuous nonsense they wish to convey to me. The election of that little shit is all the proof I need of House Pax's treachery." Prime replied authoritatively. "There will be no opportunities for Tyger Pax to be warned, the assault will proceed, and it will proceed silently."

"Sir, once again, I must…" 

"Shut up Red Alert!" Prime snapped. "Inform the western border forces that we will be at their position in minutes, and they are to follow us into The Torus Heights, obliterating any opposition they face between them and Tyger Pax."

"They are aware of their orders, and I've forwarded your ETA to them just now." Red Alert replied.

"Good. Now monitor the rest of the planet." Prime ordered. "You've proven to lack the mettle for dealing with The Torus Heights."

"As you command, Prime."

Dwight D. Eisenhower

"Sooooo," the American President muttered as he considered his next move, "I never had the chance to play Harry, which of us is better?" He slid his Bishop a few spaces.

"Difficult to say." Alpha Trion replied as he studied the board. "One of the few things the two of you had in common is that you are both quite good at chess." They were in the same large cell housed within the same vast subterranean chamber that had held the giant alien for fourteen years.

"Do we really seem that different to you?" Ike asked, eyes glued to the board.

"Not in all matters, it's just an impression I get due to the fact that there are a few critical issues that you both were very divergent upon." The alien replied.

"Such as?"

"The one that stands out more than the others is your criticism of his choice to use atomic weapons." Alpha Trion mentioned.

Eisenhower nodded. "Yes, I consider that to be a regretful mistake on our country's part." He raised his eyes up a the robot. "You think I'm wrong in that belief?"

"No." Alpha Trion replied, but continued hesitantly. "Well, I'm not sure. I see both sides I suppose."

"We used a weapon of unimaginable destructive power against a nearly vanquished enemy, on civilian targets." Ike replied, a slight hint of venom in his voice.

"Based on what I've read on the matter, just how near that actual vanquishing was is open to contention." The robot replied.

"Harry did mention to me that you enjoyed playing devil's advocate." The President muttered as he turned his gaze back at the chess board.

"I'm afraid I do." Alpha Trion grinned slightly. "Perhaps I view it as an act of insubordination that you can't justifiably punish. Or perhaps I just like testing you humans."

"Hmmmm, well, it is my genuine belief that the Japanese were looking for an honorable out. I know Harry and Douglas felt otherwise, and I respect their opinion, I just happen to believe they were wrong." Ike explained.

"How certain were you that a full scale invasion would not have been necessary?" Alpha Trion asked.

Ike looked back up and exhaled. "I believe it could have been avoided. I can't say for certain we could have found a better way, but I genuinely do believe we could have ended the war without either an invasion or by dropping the bombs." He shook his head. "Especially the bombs. Yes, had it come to an invasion I realize that the death toll would have been similar, possibly greater, but history would not record us as being the first to use such an evil device, especially against civilians."

"Hmmm," the robot mused, "this aspect really troubles you?"

"Of course it does!" President Eisenhower snapped. "How could it not?"

"You're a religious man, aren't you?" Alpha Trion asked. "A follower of Yahweh?"

"Uh, yes. I am a Christian." Ike replied, a little confused. "A Presbyterian. Growing up I referred to him as Jehovah, but they're different names for the same God. Why?"

"I've read your bible, various Christian bibles, as well as different versions of the Torah and the Koran." Alpha Trion began explaining. "In all, they describe the same one God who is the omnipotent, all-powerful creator of all things, as well as describing the events leading to the freedom of the Israelites from Egyptian slavery. Moses demanded freedom for his people, the Pharaoh refused, and your God implemented an escalating series of punishments against the Egyptians intended to convince the Pharaoh to release them. Yahweh apparently galvanized Pharaoh's resolve, hardened his heart, so that that he would remain resistant through the first nine plagues, thus justifying Yahweh's implementation of the tenth, most horrific and devastating punishment."

"Thank you, I'm quite familiar with Exodus." President Eisenhower replied dryly. "And I'm fully aware of where you're going with this. You can't possibly compare God to Harry, Douglas or anyone else."

"Of course not." Alpha Trion answered. "Neither President Truman nor General MacArthur were capable of knowing the thoughts of Emperor Hirohito, and they certainly would have done nothing to discourage him from surrender just to intimidate the world with a display of their power. Nor would they have specifically targeted children who had no influence over the decisions of the monarch claiming divinity that ruled over them."

"Enough!" Ike grumbled. "Harry really was right about you."

Alpha Trion smiled. "OK, perhaps we can discuss Genesis then. What do your religious historians put that time period at? Five to ten thousand years ago? Have I mentioned I visited your planet a million years ago, already formed and teeming with life? You know, there was this British naturalist named…"

"Ughn, sports, let's talk about sports!" Ike interrupted. "You have any sports on your world?"

The giant alien nodded. "Of course. Like on your planet, popular sports vary by region, but they certainly have followings."

"Which is most popular?" Ike asked.

"I'm ashamed to say that in the years leading to my departure, the gladiatorial combat sports had been making a huge resurgence." Alpha Trion answered. "Illegal, but becoming incredibly popular throughout the entire planet nonetheless."

"Hmm, and they say football is violent." The President mused.

"I understand you played." Alpha Trion stated. "The American version, not what the rest of the world considers football."

"In college." The President answered as he scrutinized the giant prisoner's chess move. "Thought about going pro, at least until I had the damn fool idea to try and tackle Jim Thorpe."

"I've read of him." The alien muttered as he watched his opponent consider possible moves. "The most naturally gifted of your human athletes."

"The man was a force of nature." Ike replied. "So strong, so fast, so graceful and perfectly balanced. His instincts, his reaction, his reflexes…all just perfect. He didn't need to practice to be the best at any given sport, just explain the objective of the game and the rules, and he'd go out there and win." The President looked up at the alien. "You have anyone like that on Cybertron?"

Alpha Trion smiled lightly. "Yes. Every few pulses there comes an individual like that. I've known several. One comes to mind right now, an individual that has been on my mind a great deal over the last fifteen years."

"A giant, robotic Jim Thorpe." Ike muttered. "Scary thought."

"Imagine a robotic Jim Thorpe with the mind of Benjamin Franklin." The alien replied.

"An even scarier thought." Ike replied. "I'm assuming you're talking about this Guardian Prime you're trying to protect the universe from."

Alpha Trion frowned. "I wasn't, though I fear the description applies to him as well." The giant robot looked up over the President's head deep in thought, and his optics flashed for a moment as if something caught his attention.

Ike turned to see what had seemed interesting to the alien, and caught sight of the tip of a rat's tail disappearing into the shadows behind an array of equipment on the far side of the fortified laboratory. Based on the tip of the tail, the rat would have had to be as big as a large dog. "Mercy!" He turned and looked up at the prisoner. "Did you actually see that thing? I barely got a glimpse of the tail, but it must have been huge."

"I…I only saw movement, Mr. President." The robot replied. "Vermin is an issue even on my planet, I really didn't mind it there, and I do not mind it here." He then nodded back down at the board. "Shall we continue?"

Ike hesitantly nodded and looked back down. "Yes, of course. We'll need to get this place swept for rodents."

"Whatever you decide to do, sir." Alpha Trion answered. The robot smiled lightly before continuing. "I will say one thing for Harry, he didn't take this long to move a piece."

Orion Pax

He gazed out into the dark night sky, and once again let his optics glide over the celestial shapes that he had long since committed to memory. The distant star of the Junk system was giving the limited heat it provided to the other hemisphere of the planet right now, leaving Junkion Prime to be lit only by vastly more distant stars. Orion heard the footsteps coming up the stairwell leading to the roof of the Capital Building and smiled. He'd come to be alone, but after several minutes of solitude he was open to some company. "Hello Wreck Gar."

"Every night that I've been in your company for the last fourteen years I've found you staring up at the stars much of the time." The leader of Junk commented amicably as he sidled up next to his friend. "If I had to guess, the evenings when I wasn't in your company were probably no different."

"Missing home, my Gar, just missing home." Orion replied before turning and smiling at Wreck Gar.

Wreck Gar continued staring up at the sky, clearly deep in thought, about to share some of those thoughts, hesitating, but finally giving them voice. "Is Cybertron still truly your home, my friend?" The leader of Junk turned and smiled at Orion. "You lived one year there, you've spent fourteen here. I know many here saw you as an outsider at one time, I'm sure some still do, but most of us have come to accept you as one of our own. Many of us have come to think of you as family."

"We are family, Wreck Gar." Orion replied, looking down at the roof they were standing upon. "But I have other family, and I fear for them. And much of that fear is due to their link to me. My existence has put them in danger, and I must see to their safety." He looked back up and met Wreck Gar's gaze.

Wreck Gar smiled and nodded. "And you miss them as well." He watched Orion display a small smile and shrug, prompting Wreck Gar to place his hand on the new adult's shoulder reassuringly. "Having personal desires does not make you selfish or any less noble, Orion. Your entire life you've put the needs and desires of others well before your own, and that makes you a good and honorable man. Wishing to achieve those desires at some point doesn't undo the good you've done. Elita, Torenia, Roller, Ratchet, Ironhide; missing them, wanting to be with them, that is not selfish. It does not undermine your intent to put others first. If anything, having desires makes putting others first a greater and more noble sacrifice." The Gar then put his other hand on Orion's other shoulder and broadened his smile. "That said, I still think you should make Junk your home, and know that your friends and family will always be welcome here."

Orion chuckled. "I will definitely keep that under advisement." He then looked back up into the dark sky. "Not that leaving is an option. I'm afraid you're stuck with me for the time being."

Wreck Gar lowered his arms and stepped back. "I can't think of anything better for Junk. And it'll be interesting if nothing else for me to be a regular 'zen again." He noted Orion turning and fixing a questioning look on him. "Obviously that incredible naiveté will need to have worn away before it happens, but there's no question that if you stay, you will be Gar of Junk at some point. You're the greatest leader I've ever known, and you've only just reached adulthood."

"You flatter me, my Gar, but Junk will never have a better, more dedicated leader than you." Orion replied humbly.

Wreck Gar shrugged. "A matter for another time I suppose. Tonight, we relax. The rebuilding effort can allow us this evening."

Orion stared back up into the sky. With the war over, and apparently with Wreck Gar's approval, he could wish for things again. At that moment he wanted to be with his brother.

Kup

A fourth wheel would have made this so much easier. He'd have likely made it to Tyger Pax by this point with a fourth wheel. But the Lord Commander of the Tartarun Gates was more than capable of making due with three. He had no choice, failure to get there and warn the emirate, warn the entire planet, was not an option. The gates had been breached, the Wardens had fallen, the Guardian was likely dead, and the army of death would soon be upon them all. For fifteen million years the beasts had been contained, and it had been on his watch when it had all fallen. "Stupid old fool." Kup grumbled to himself. "How could I have let this happen?"

Finally the vast Tyger Pax came into view, and several minutes later a small shuttle approached and landed a quarter mile in front of him. Kup transformed painfully and limped the rest of the way toward the transport, which was opening to reveal the Pax House guard Inferno. "Lord Commander?"

"Inferno, please get me to Olnius Pax immediately." Kup muttered as he allowed Inferno to assist him into the shuttle. "Our greatest fears have come to pass."

"Of course sir, but Olnius is no longer Emir of The Torus Heights or head of House Pax." Inferno replied. "That honor has passed on to Roller Pax."

"Roller?" Kup grumbled as he fell into a seat and Inferno leapt into the pilot's seat. "Has he even reached the age of self-determination yet?"

"Got there a few days ago sir." Inferno replied as he lifted the craft into the air. "Sir, are there any other survivors? Should we organize a search and rescue force?"

"Negative. Just get me to Tyger Pax. The Gates and the Wardens are lost." Kup growled through the pain. "We need to evacuate the northern Heights, maybe even the entire emirate, organize our forces, ALL our forces, and strike back as a unified planetary army to drive these monsters back."

"I've alerted Emir Pax that you're inbound and that it's an emergency." The large red pilot called back as the shuttle glided over the outer walls of the vast city-sized keep. "He's on his way to the landing pad."

"Good." Kup muttered. "Once we land, I need for you to be ready to spread the word. Tyger Pax needs to spearhead the evacuation and communication with the other great houses, and as one of House Pax's most trusted guards, much will fall on you."

"I'm ready for the challenge, Lord Commander." Inferno replied as he set the craft down on the tarmac. Kup stood up to see Roller, Olnius, Stronghold and several other members of House Pax approaching with a quick pace. "Sir, let me…"

"I can exit a shuttle on my own, Inferno." Kup interrupted as he threw open the door and leapt painfully to the ground. "Emir Pax, congratulations on your new appointment. You're about to regret that it happened."

"Why is that?" Roller asked with all seriousness. "What has happened?"

"The Gates…we were beset by a…a swarm of…of bio-mechanical insectoids." Kup stammered out in an attempt to convey what had happened. "They were like beast modes commonly found in Nyon, but they were mindless creatures, no robotic form. But they were not organic animals, that is certain. And there were thousands of them…tens of thousands."

"Even with tens of thousands of those things, it should still have taken them days to breach the mountain defenses!" Olnius replied almost frantically.

"We were betrayed by one of our own." Kup snarled. "A bastard of a Warden named Mindwipe. He silenced our perimeter defenses, opened the front gates, and allowed the vile swarm into the mountain, followed by a small group of Cybertronians that seemed to pick off what the swarm left behind."

"But the Gates themselves! And the Guardian!" Roller muttered.

"Mindwipe used the confusion to get through the Gates. Omega Supreme was unaware of his treachery, and only saw him as a comrades when final level was breached." Kup peered down. "I can only guess what happened next, but it involved a near-nuclear level explosion. I was still fighting remnants of the swarm in an upper level when it went off, so I survived the blast and the subsequent cave-in. It was enough to breach the final gate though, because as I came to I was surrounded by the screams of my fellow Wardens as the monsters of our nightmares fell upon them to feast. I was buried, but they failed to notice me, and I managed to get away." He looked down. "I wished to remain and fight, but Cybertron needs to be warned."

Roller stared dumbfounded for a moment, but only a moment as he immediately seemed to collect his bearings. He turned to Olnius and Stronghold. "Contact Sentinel Prime, alert him to what's going on here and let him know that we are going to be evacuating as much of our population to our southern border with Nova Cronum as possible."

"Sentinel Prime? Are you sure, Emir Pax?" Stronghold asked.

"No choice, this is far too big to let whatever petty animosity that exists between us to get in the way." Roller snapped back. "He may choose not to believe you, if that's the case, let me know and I'll put Kup on there. He may think I'd try to deceive him, but he'd have to have a screw loose to challenge the word of the Lord Commander of the Wardens. Now go!"

"Aye Roller." Stronghold turned, transformed and sped back toward central Tyger Pax along with the other members of House Pax that had accompanied him aside from Olnius.

Roller then turned to Inferno. "Inferno, gather the rest of the guards and make them aware of our various weapons caches. They are to be brought south as well. It kills me to just hand them over to Sentinel Prime, but every asset needs to be pooled to push the demons back into hell."

"Aye my Emir!" Inferno replied before turning, transforming and following Stronghold toward the structures of Tyger Pax, a gathering of people starting to form between the buildings and the tarmac to see what was going on.

Roller and Olnius drew closer to Kup. "If Omega Supreme truly is lost, then you may be the only living being to have laid optics on these things." Roller muttered. "I don't expect you to have observed much, but whatever you did see is all we have on these monstrosities beyond legends."

Kup nodded. "I didn't see much, what I did manage to take in of the sparkeaters only seemed to confirm the legends." Kup muttered. "But it was more than just sparkeaters. They had…servants…slaves. Most were like…like us. Different, mutants of sorts, but I think if I looked past the situation, the filth, the savagery, the mutilations, they were just members of our species born beneath the surface. Cybertronians that the sparkeaters couldn't or wouldn't turn for whatever reason."

The two Pax's stared in horror for several moments before Roller prodded. "What were the ones that weren't like us?"

"Demons." The Lord Commander muttered as he stared at the ground. "Mindless creatures that the sparkeaters found a way to control and to turn on us." He then looked up and locked optics with Roller. "And I fear there is something more. One of the sparkeaters took a moment from his gluttonous feast to mutter to another about his disappointment that Omega Supreme was not opposing them. That he had hoped to see the Dweller devour him."

"The Dweller?" Olnius asked. "None of A-Three's lessons ever mentioned that."

Roller lowered his gaze and stared intently at the ground. "Word needs to spread, preparations need to be made. Let's go." Just as he turned they saw Stronghold speeding back to them in his bulky ground transport mode.

Upon nearly reaching them he transformed and stumbled the remainder of the way. "Emir Pax, we've received reports of an invasion from Nova Cronum. Primarily government forces, but House Honorum forces were reportedly mixed in. We've verified via our long range scanners and have attempted to contact them, but they're blocking our hails."

"Damn it!" Roller growled. "Of course this is happening now."

"Sir, what do we do?" Stronghold asked.

Roller paused, but after a moment shook his head as he came to a decision. "Continue with the evacuation effort. Get as many of our citizens south as you can. I will remain here and confront Sentinel Prime."

"Sir, no, he'll kill you!" Stronghold protested.

"He'll torture me for information on Orion first." Roller laconically stated with a smile. "He may be an unfit bastard, but he is the Prime; he's the only one that can alert and summon the forces of the entire planet to stand against this threat, and since he won't pick up our calls, he'll need to be told in person when he gets here." Roller turned to the battered blue Lord Commander of the Wardens of the Tartarun Gates. "I ask you to remain with me, Lord Commander. He will expect this to be a trick on my part, but as I mentioned before, he will have to believe your word."

"Of course, Emir Pax." Kup replied.

Roller then turned back to his fellow House members. "Now go, get our people to safety!"

Nightbeat

Legends depicted Jhiaxus as reckless, perhaps mad, possibly sociopathic, but damn if the bot didn't draw a good map. Well, a good stellar map anyway. There was no trace of the artificial island that Nightbeat found mention of in some of Jhiaxus's old notes. Nothing but ocean existed in the coordinates listed as the site of Jhiaxus's island sanctuary, so either that was inaccurate, or there had been some significant changes over the last 1.2 million years. Either way, the fact that this Helios-3 existed and that Nightbeat had found it without any difficulty was a great start. There were other ways to track down the lab, and hopefully The Manifest. Nightbeat scanned his environment as he emerged from the ocean and stepped onto Kent Island, Maryland, and carefully made his way to Bayside Drive, making sure he was not seen, and transformed into the alternate mode he had programmed into the small ship's infirmary chamber for his shell mode to be modified to. A moment later a glisteningly new 1959 Pontiac Parisienne pulled on to the road and made his way to the Chesapeake Bay Bridge.

Thorough scans of the planet had detected several traces of Cybertronian technology, significant bits in the Arctic Circle, smaller traces throughout the planet, but one near the seat of power for one of the planet's two super-powers that lacked any attempts at energy masking beyond the native technology, almost as though the local fauna discovered and laid claim to something Cybertronian. This particular fauna, humans as they called themselves in the most common local language, was higher level, but organic and vastly behind Cybertron technologically. They had been in existence in their current specie form for at least a hundred thousand years, but civilization had only occurred in the last ten thousand years, and progress even after that point had been extremely slow up until recent centuries. But they had reached the point of accurately recording most of their accomplishments for future generations and could communicate and share ideas with members of their species from all over the world, so Nighbeat expected their progress to swell greatly over the next few millennia…provided they didn't get wiped out in that time.

Their progress would explode were they to actually possess and reverse-engineer any Cybertronian technology, which could create problems for the humans, for Cybertronians, and likely for numerous other species throughout the galaxy. Even if it wasn't linked to the Manifest, Nightbeat needed to find out what was going on in this Aberdeen, Maryland, United States of America, Earth. Going at speeds typical of human vehicles on local roads, it would take him almost an hour and a half to get to his destination, and for the first hour of the trek the estimate seemed accurate. But a flare-up on his sensor equipment, one still set to seek out Cybertronian technology and energy readings, caused him to veer off as he got close to the waterway known as Big Gunpowder Falls and seek out the surge in energon signatures.

He exited the roadway and drove along the river until continuing on in car mode was no longer an option, at which point he transformed and continued on foot, moving hastily but as quietly as he could. He finally found the disturbance, though even at seeing it he wasn't sure what he was dealing with. Prior to landing his starhopper in the bay, he had sent several drones to scan the writings confined to bound paper collections in local libraries, their scanned data providing him with what he hoped would be an adequate degree of knowledge regarding the planet. He peered through the thick grove of trees lining the river to see what looked to be a Rattus norvegicus the size of a large dog darting through the forest avoiding energy-weapon's fire emanating from a Culicinae that was as big as Nightbeat. The size of both creatures seemed to defy their normal size parameters, especially the mosquito. Even the furthest outliers for both species would be nowhere near this size.

Nightbeat chided himself for making a case for why these weren't native creatures; one was firing energized rounds at the other, of course they weren't native creatures! He pulled out his own rifle but continued watching silently to get an idea of what was going on. The rat made for the river bank, perhaps to submerge and hide, but a Manta birostris, one large but still within viable anatomical parameters, burst forth from the water to set upon the rat, which immediately darted to the side to avoid the lunge from the manta ray.

"Bzzzzzz, Rat-Trap, surrender." The giant mosquito demanded in between shots. "You cannot ezzzzzcape us, either be taken or be killed!"

"Actually rat, I'd prefer if you fought." The feminine voice of the manta ray grumbled out as it transformed into a bulky thirteen foot tall femme.

The giant rat transformed as well, standing shorter than the average human male, but wielding a pistol that provided a bit more threat than his stature. "Ehhh, sorry, think I'll go with option number three; poke a few holes in the two of you and get the hell outta here with my fur intact."

The mosquito transformed as well, turning into a horrific looking eighteen foot tall slender but powerful looking robot. "Forget it rat, zzzzzzero chance of zzzat happening. Drop your weapon, zzzzzubmit to uzzz, and tell uzzz where the Manifest izzz located, and maybe we'll let you live."

Bingo, the rat knows. Nightbeat leveled his rifle at the larger mosquito-bot; he didn't know who the players were, he didn't know the stakes, he only knew that they believed this Rat-Trap knew where the Manifest was, so he picked a debilitating but non-lethal target and squeezed the trigger. The tall mosquito-bot was falling to the muddy banks before the manta-bot heard the discharge. By that point Nightbeat had targeted her was well and was opening fire. The rat-bot froze, terrified but hopeful at seeing his attackers laid out in the mud groaning in agony, but wondering if he was next. The fifteen-foot tall robot pushing through the trees gave him a clue as to what he was dealing with. The rat-bot looked up and gave a hesitant smile, his buck-teeth fully on display. "Ehhh, I'll thank you for this as long as I'm not next."

"I don't know who you are, nor do I know who they are." Nightbeat answered, keeping his firearm aimed at the four and a half foot tall robot. "Frankly, I don't care. Don't care about what you're fighting about, who started it, who's right or who's wrong. I was sent here by Sentinel Prime to retrieve the bodies of fallen heroes, and it appears you know where they are."

The rat groaned almost inaudibly, but suddenly raised his pistol and started to aim in the general direction of Nightbeat. Nightbeat moved to fire on the rat, but noted that the rat-bot fired while aiming well below his torso. The round shot by him and impacted something behind him, eliciting a groan. Nightbeat spun to see an Anthonomus grandis even bigger than the rat had been on the ground with a smoking hold in his side. "That's Drill Bit." The rat-bot stated, then continued as Nightbeat turned his attention back to him, noting that the pistol was now aimed at his face. "Big skeeter is Transquito, and the fish is Manta Ray." He then displayed a crooked grin. "There will probably be more of them soon, so why don't you transform and get us out of here. Guessing by the chunks on your frame you're a Buick?"

"Pontiac." Nightbeat replied. "I'm assuming your name is Rat-Trap, or was that an insult based on your alternate mode?"

"Yup, and what's your name?" Rat-Trap asked as he flicked the gun indicating he expected the much bigger Cybertronian to turn and walk back in the direction of a road.

"Nightbeat." He replied. "And despite the gun, I'm calling the shots here."

"Whatever pal, just keep marchin' toward civilization." Rat-Trap muttered. "I have a report to deliver. One regarding another one of you homeworld jerks."

Sentinel Prime

"I don't get it, we know we've been seen." Sentinel Prime growled over the head of the pilot as he stooped in the cockpit peering straight through the windshield as they zipped over the desolate northernmost emirate. "They should have engaged us by now!"

"Sir, they clearly know we're here, they've been hailing us for the last couple hours." The pilot, Kick-Off, stated. "We're about to fly over Polarus, and there's something weird. All my scans seem to indicate that it's deserted."

A broad grin spread over Sentinel's face. "They've fled in fear. They know their ruling House is misleading them and they've chosen to abandon the Pax's."

"Don't know about that, Prime." Kick-Off replied. "They tend to be pretty loyal to the Pax's in the Heights."

"Then their sense finally overpowered their insipid loyalty!" Prime growled. "How soon til we reach Tyger Pax?"

"Just a couple more minutes, Prime." The pilot replied.

"Be prepared for their anti-air ordinance." Prime warned, though he seemed increasingly doubtful they'd come under attack. Seconds later the gigantic fortress appeared ahead of them, still no sign of resistance. As they drew near they saw two lone figures on the landing pad, the only sign of life in the entire region. "Target them, but hold off on firing until I give the order."

"Should I hover, fly over and circle around, or land, Prime?"

Prime stared quietly through the windshield for a few moments as he considered the question. They were close enough now so that he could make out the new emir, Roller Pax, standing next to what appeared to be a battered Lord Commander Kup. "What the hell is Kup doing here?" He whispered to himself before finally addressing his pilot. "Order the other ships to encircle Tyger Pax and hover in position. You are to land and let me out with my personal guard."

"As you command, Prime." Kick-Off answered as he sent out the silent command to the other pilots via the wire jacked into his neck connected to the communications console and directed the attack craft down toward the landing pad.

Prime turned and marched into the main section of the craft, taking his massive rifle from one of his personal guards and walking toward the door. The ship rocked as it touched down and he opened the door and marched out. "With me." He ordered his ten guards, all nearly as tall, hulking, armored and well-armed as he was. Two quickly set out in front of him to protect him against any attack that House Pax may have had waiting for them. Once within sixty feet Prime called out. "Congratulations on willing the election, Emir Pax!"

"Thank you for that, Prime, and for this visit." Roller shot back defiantly, marching fearlessly toward Prime despite the ten large rifles pointed threateningly at him. "It would have been nice of you to answer our hails though. We have an emergency here." They both stopped with about twenty feet between them.

"Yes, you do." Sentinel Prime snarked back. "You're about to be executed and your house may very likely cease to exist after today."

"Enough!" Kup growled. "Prime, I appreciate that you may not be happy with Emir Pax here, but that's going to have to wait."

Prime was taken aback by the intrusion, but maintained a predominantly professional and cordial demeanor with only the slightest bit of venom in his voice. "Lord Commander, I was wondering what you were doing here. I hold you in great esteem, Kup, but mind your tone when talking to your Prime!"

"I apologize, Prime, but the Tartarun Gates have fallen. Taenarus is swarming with sparkeaters, mutants and what appear to be demons of legend." Kup stated respectfully but with authority. "As far as I know, I'm all that remains of the Wardens. Even Omega Supreme is likely dead."

Sentinel Prime stared at Kup dumbfounded for several moments before finally mustering a reply. "What?"

"This is not a trick, Prime." Roller stated. "I know you would not believe me were I the one to tell you this, even with the northern Heights all but evacuated, but I doubt even you would question Lord Commander Kup."

Prime just shook his head, unable to fathom what they were talking about. "What? No. That's all just myth. We maintain, equip and man the Gates for the sake of tradition."

"What?" It was Kup's turn not to believe what he was hearing. "My Prime, I assure you, these vile creatures are very real, and they are once again roaming our world looking to consume our life-forces!"

"Prime, our differences are insignificant compared to this common enemy!" Roller asserted. "We must come up with a defense! You must rally the planet, gather our forces, and lead us to push these things back into the depths of hell!"

"Prime, be advised, there are eleven shuttles approaching from the south. They appear to be transport and freight ships, but we're scanning a multitude of weapons in each of them." Kick-Off's voice came through Prime's wrist communicator.

"A trap, young Pax?" Prime asked with a knowing smirk.

Roller was genuinely stunned. "I have no idea of who or what that is."

"I think you're attempting to lull us into a false sense of security." Prime's smirk broadened into a smile.

"To what end?" Roller snapped back. "To unleash eleven freight transports upon your fifty-some warships? Believe me Prime, I have no idea who that is." Roller then pulled a small communications console around that had been strapped to his back and pressed a few buttons before nearly barking into it. "Eleven shuttles that are inbound to Tyger Pax, identify yourselves."

A moment later a familiar voice was responding. "This is Lugnut of House Boltax, coming to support House Pax."

"This is Emir Roller Pax." Roller immediately shot back. "Turn around, and take all subjects from Boltax lands, along with assets, particularly military assets, south to the boarder. Taenarus has fallen, the sparkeaters are free!" Roller turned off the communicator and looked back up at Prime. "Sorry for the interruption. Believe me, this was not something I planned."

Sentinel Prime merely stared down at Roller, but Kick-Off's voice came through his wrist communicator before he could respond. "Prime, the ships are still in route to our position."

"What the hell is wrong with that big, stupid jack-ass?" Roller snarled.

"Roller Pax," Sentinel said calmly, "instruct Lugnut Boltax to set his ships down on your landing pad."

"As you wish, Prime." Roller replied as he re-opened a channel with Lugnut. "Lugnut, since you apparently can't do as I've instructed you, please continue here and land. I will meet you personally."

"Excellent news, Emir Pax." Lugnut replied, a hint of mirth in his voice. Within two minutes the eleven ships had come into view, but seemed to slow to nearly a hover upon seeing the armada of government warships hovering several feet off of ground all around Tyger Pax. They finally started moving forward again, and a little while later all eleven shuttles were settling down on the landing pad. Lugnut hesitantly peered out through the opening door and slowly made his way down the ramp to the ground. He finally made it to Sentinel Prime, his personal guard, Roller and Kup. "Sentinel Prime, I was not aware that you'd be here."

"Lord Boltax, it is good to finally meet you." Prime replied. "I've enjoyed watching footage of your fights for several years now." The leader of Cybertron smiled as the nearly featureless face of Lugnut moved about nervously. "Don't bother to deny it, the identity obfuscation technology doesn't work on one as unique as you."

"Primus, he's found religion!" Roller muttered, nodding to the large purple face of the Warrior etched into his chest.

"The wrong religion." Prime muttered in disgust. "You've abandoned Primus and become a poly, Lugnut of House Boltax?"

Lugnut turned down and looked at the face, seeming nervous. Roller noted that the Warrior face was on all of the other brutal looking robots that had accompanied Lugnut, and that they were quite nervous looking as well. "Uh, no, no Prime, it's just kinda…kinda a symbol for us gladiators. Kinda like how those pissant Autobots use the Common Man face. Lots of them are of the Primus faith, but they still bear the face."

Prime took a step toward Lugnut and peered up at the more massive robot. "You're hiding something Lugnut, there's no question about that." Prime turned his gaze back at Roller, delivering a heated glance, before finally locking optics with Kup. "Lord Commander, are you absolutely certain of what you're claiming?"

Kup peered intently at their leader. "My Prime, I swear to Primus that all I've told you is the absolute truth, and that our planet is in greater danger now than it's been in fifteen million years."

"Prime, be advised, we're getting…unusual readings coming from the north." Kick-Off's voice once again came through Prime's wrist communicator. "No vehicles, it looks to be thousands of individuals."

Prime nodded and turned to Lugnut. "Lugnut of House Boltax, take your ships, take your thugs, and do as your emir instructed you to do. You will be granted permission to take your assets and your people across the border into Nova Cronum." Lugnut nodded and turned, heading hastily back to his ship. Prime turned back to Kup. "Lord Commander, please come with me. I will need your expertise on these creatures."

"Of course, my Prime." Kup replied.

Prime then turned to Roller. "Emir Pax, unless you're willing to discuss the whereabouts of a certain fugitive, I'm ordering you to remain here and defend Tyger Pax against the armies of hell." The Prime displayed a cruel grin. "What's it going to be?"

Roller returned a forced smile. "Prepare the planet, my Prime. I will do all I can to hold the north for you."

Prime shrugged and turned to return to his attack ship.


	16. Chapter 16

Rabattus Decimus

Finally, there it was in the distance, Castle Fluctus, home of House Torrent and where he had been assured by Soundwave that Megatron would be to meet him. It was time to have a 'come to Primus' meeting with the devious, mutinous gladiator. Reports were flying in from all over the planet; groups of well-armed, well organized and well-trained thugs, all bearing the face of the Warrior, were eradicating members of high houses in every emirate, including several royal houses. There were rumors that Megatron himself had executed Militus Macht, and had his band wipe out every Macht in Polyhex. To only add to the confusion, there were reports that the Tartarun Gates had been breached, that the Wardens and their pet Guardian had fallen, and that the armies of the undead would soon be sweeping south to consume their very sparks.

Rabattus had seen and heard enough to know the rumors were true…well, the rumors regarding Megatron's underground movement rising up anyway, the talk of sparkeaters scurrying across the frozen wastes was utter nonsense. The senator from the House of Decimus was outraged at Megatron for acting behind his back, for having the audacity to act against his betters, and to use the weapons and other resources Rabattus had funneled to him through the years against anyone other than the supposed victims of the Autobots. But, truth be told, this chaos could act in Rabattus's favor. He didn't know Megatron's end game, the gladiator was a loose cannon and had to go, that much was clear, but the dismantling of several high and royal houses, the utter destabilizing of virtually every emirate on the planet…these weakened Sentinel Prime's position, and with the right manipulations, could accelerate Rabattus's designs on the Primal Throne.

But first things first. Megatron needed to go. The gladiatorial champion was targeting the high-born, Rabattus was as high-born as they came and knew he was in Megatron's cross-hairs. Perhaps not today, he still had access to resources the rebel needed, but at some point Megatron would have him killed, so Rabattus was intent on beating the lowborn shit to the punch. But even if Megatron planned on letting Rabattus live for some time longer, there was no doubt that he would be awaiting him in force at Castle Fluctus. Soundwave seemed to have sold out his social equals, perhaps Shockwave had as well, so the sanctuary of House Torrent was by no means a sanctuary for the arriving senator, and as such, precautions had been made. That idiot Red Alert had informed him that Sentinel Prime was exceptionally busy dealing with occurrences in The Torus Heights, but had agreed to forward Rabattus's coded message immediately after the senator had emphatically, and more than a little insultingly, made it clear that what he needed the Prime for was of far greater importance than dealing with the upstart shit that had just gotten himself elected Emir of some shitty polar emirate. With any luck, Prime was on his way now, which was good as Rabattus would like a few minutes to talk with Soundwave and Megatron before the Prime's arrival. If at all possible, he hoped he could convince Soundwave to abandon Megatron and continue working with him; the blue bore was far more clever and useful than he let on.

The shuttle descended through the spiraling towers of the city-sized castle, allowing Rabattus to admire the ancient and beautiful architecture up close. He had always considered Fluctusian artwork to be too subtle for his tastes, it was majestic, there was no question, but it just wasn't majestic enough compared to what he had been raised to prefer. He was accustomed to the more grandiose styles favored by the ancient members of House Decimus that had preceded him, styles that the majority of the planet considered to be overly extravagant, but the opinions of those raised in squalor and surrounded by mediocrity were of no concern to the members of House Decimus. That said, while inferior to the art favored by his house, Rabattus still enjoyed studying the Fluctusian towers and spires as he descended through them onto the landing pad in the vast central courtyard. This landing pad was large enough to hold up to 15 mid-sized craft or two troop transports. There were currently three shuttles on the ground, Rabattus's would make the fourth; still enough space to put down Prime's attack craft and a troop transport with ease. Rabattus smiled confidently as he felt the shuttle rock to a landing and he stood up to exit the craft.

In the courtyard waiting for him were Soundwave and Megatron, the latter appearing haggard and bearing what looked like new body armor and possibly some further enhancements, as well as an enormous weapon of sorts on his right forearm, one whose likeness to certain ancient legends was more than a bit unnerving. Various House Torrent servants and guards moved about the compound attending to their duties as the dark senator exited the craft. Time to exude some authority, make these two and all those milling around aware of who was in charge. "Have the two of you lost your Primus-damned minds? What the hell do you think you were doing?"

Megatron smiled. "It's good to see you too, Senator Decimus."

"Don't be blasé with me, you glorified miner! Tell me what happened at Castle Macht!" Rabattus snarled. "Tell me what happened at The Nexus! What happened at the Crystalline Palace? Ambustion Point? Word is the attacks failed at The Maximirium and Citadel Magnus, though not for lack of trying on the part of the Warrior-branded bastards killing everyone! And those are just the royal houses that I've gotten word of! There are dozens of other high houses that according to rumor, have been wiped from the face of Cybertron! Explain yourselves!" Rabattus then pointed at the cannon on Megatron's arm. "And that had better not be what I think it is!"

Megatron smugly looked down at the weapon on his arm. "This is exactly what you think it is, and as for our unfinished business, we'll complete what we started at The Maximirium and Citadel Magnus, have no fear of that." Megatron peered intently into Rabattus's optics and smiled broadly. "Our attack on the Draconyx Lair has begun, though Hun-Grr has reported that Emir Ogrus has evaded their detection thus far. Fortress Modus is being over-run as we speak, the attack on the Solarium is imminent, I've received a report that the march on Tyger Pax had begun…" the gladiator paused, "though we've received no updates." Megatron turned to Soundwave. "Have Rumble contact Lugnut for a status report. And while you're at it, instruct Shockwave to report to Simfur and track down Ogrus. We don't want to leave the emir unaccounted for." He then turned back to the aghast Rabattus. "Anyway, who's left? Oh, Castle Fluctus fell to our forces several hours ago, you're welcome to go in and pay your final respects to Lightwave, I'm sure his frame is still warm, and we're saving the Honorium for last." He smiled and peered deeply into Rabattus's optics. "Did I forget any?"

Rabattus was frozen with terror, and unable to speak, but Soundwave said the two words that were repeating through his head at that moment. "Mount Decimus."

"Ahhhh," Megatron cooed with a grin. "that's right. Mount Decimus." He turned to Soundwave. "What are our plans for Mount Decimus?"

"Intention, raze it to the ground." Soundwave replied. "Status, progressing as we speak."

"NO!" Rabattus roared, but his rage only caused Megatron to chuckle and got no visible reaction at all out of Soundwave.

"Yes, my dear Senator, yes." Megatron replied amicably. "Your physical house will be rubble, and those sharing your name will be exterminated."

"You…you…you bastard!" Rabattus hissed. "How could you? After everything I've done for you!"

"You've done nothing that wasn't intended to further your own personal agenda, Lord Decimus." Megatron sneered.

"Lord Megatron." Soundwave interrupted. "Inbound craft approaching. Nine attack craft and three troop transports. About thirty miles out."

"Hmmmm, guests." Megatron nodded, almost giddily.

"Yes, guests." Rabattus sneered with a malevolent grin etched across his fearsome face. "Guests that are going to squash your rebellion here and now! I shall enjoy watching Sentinel Prime crush your spark!"

"Do a better job of biding your time, Senator." Megatron replied with an utter lack of concern. "They're still minutes away, more than enough time for me to pull your head from your shoulders. But do not fear, I have no intention of harming you yet. I want you to see this." Megatron then turned to Soundwave. "Has Starscream returned from Vos yet?"

"Negative Megatron." Soundwave replied. "Remember, you reassigned…"

"Oh that's right." Megatron muttered and turned to Rabattus with a grin on his face while raising his wrist to his mouth. "I have a lot of balls in the air right now, it's a bit tricky keeping track of them all." The chrome gladiator turned to his wrist communicator. "Thundercracker, come in."

"Yes Lord Megatron." The voice replied through the wrist speaker. "I was expecting your call. Incoming hostiles have been detected."

"Scenario Alpha has been confirmed." Megatron stated. "Lay waste to the oncoming force with the other fliers, but the lead attack craft and at least one of the troop transports will need to arrive here intact. I don't want them to be discouraged."

"Of course Lord Megatron." Thundercracker chuckled back. "The Royals have tread on us for millions of years, the day of reckoning has finally arrived!"

"That's nice, Thundercracker, just do what I told you to do." Megatron grumbled right before switching off the channel and looking at Rabattus. "A zealous one, that Thundercracker. Been shit on by you highborn for so long, he leapt into the Decepticon cause with more enthusiasm than most."

"Exceptional flier as well." Soundwave added. "Almost the equal of Starscream."

"More than adequate for this task." Megatron muttered just as the explosive sounds of the aerial battle in the distance cut through the air. The unseen battle raged for several minutes, the smoke and flaring illumination from the explosions the only visible sign until three craft darted ahead and circled over the vast Castle Fluctus estate, two attack shuttles and one troop transport, all of which descended down into the courtyard and landed. Within seconds government forces were marching out of the shuttles and driving in vehicular mode out of the transports, transforming into armed robots as they came to within sight of Megatron and the others. Hundreds of soldiers created a semi-circle around Megatron, Soundwave and Rabattus, their weapons trained on them and ready to fire, the servants that had been milling around immediately disappeared into the castle. It was at that point that a hulking forty-foot tall form emerged from the lead attack craft, marching menacingly down the gangplank. Behind the thick transparent armor covering the front of the helmet was the face of Sentinel Prime. Megatron offered him a smile. "Sentinel Honorum, how good it is of you to save me the trouble of tracking you down."

"You are the one behind this?" Sentinel Prime's boosted voice called out from the mechanized armor suit. "The champion gladiator Megatron, pride of Polyhex, pet of Militus Macht!" The heavily armored Prime snarled as he reached the ground and continued striding toward the rebellious gladiator. "You will suffer greatly for your treachery!" Prime then turned to Soundwave. "And you, Soundwave of House Torrent, I know you've befriended this bastard! Do you stand with him in this? Are you a traitor to your House, your station, your kind?"

"I have, do now, and will continue to stand with Lord Megatron of Tarn until the day my spark ceases to glow." Soundwave replied.

"Then that day will be today!" Prime roared as he raised his right arm and a myriad of weaponry emerged from various slats in the metal, in particular one large cannon that was powering up. That cannon suddenly exploded and the right arm was pushed wide away from Soundwave.

All optics turned to the massive fusion cannon mounted on Megatron's outstretched right arm. "Decepticons, attack!" The chrome gladiator roared, as several shots from the soldiers lanced out toward him. Weapons' fire from every direction shot out at the soldiers, and Decepticons swarmed over the walls and out the doors, blasting away. Megatron had sustained a half dozen shots to his torso, but weathered them without any apparent injury, and the little discomfort he did display seemed to be more due to the attacks agitating the wounds of whatever procedure he had endured recently.

Sentinel Prime turned his attention back to Megatron and charged him, the strides of his massive suit cutting the distance in a couple seconds and he swung widely, smashing Megatron, the force sending the Tarnian back and against the ground, bouncing up and hitting the metal wall of the castle hard. "Your unbeaten streak ends right now, gladiator!"

Megatron straightened up and sneered at Prime. "In that suit you hit almost as hard as a middleweight." The enraged leader of the planet roared before charging and slamming into the rebel, driving them both through the metal wall and into the castle. Rabattus had dived low as soon as he had seen Prime's weapons emerging from his armor, and was now crawling to refuge behind a series of large, ornately arranged stones in one of the side gardens. As soon as he found some degree of protection, the giant boulders he was hiding behind were thrown into and over him by a vast explosion from the landing pad. Rabattus was dazed, he rolled his head to one side, barely getting it out of the dirt, to see soldiers and small pockets of flaming debris laying everywhere. He tried desperately to make sense of what had just happened, and finally noticed that the giant troop transport was a fiery wreck, and that nearly a dozen Cybertronians with aerial alternate modes were swooping down, raining missiles, laser rounds and other ordinance on the government troops.

Rabattus twisted his body and managed to attain a sitting position, watching these Decepticons, a group he had thought to be made up of disorganized, undisciplined brawlers, descend on the soldiers in an ordered and efficient manner, cutting down these professional soldiers with ease. There was a sound of impact to his left, but the sound was ignored; it was the small piece of metal wall smacking him in the side of his head that broke him from his stupor. He turned and saw immediately what had happened. Sentinel Prime was skidding across the ground, a slight turn of the neck more and Rabattus could see Megatron emerging through the new hole in the wall that he had just pummeled Prime through. "You're a very well trained warrior, Sentinel Honorum, Bludgeon has taught you well, as I instructed him to do, and in that suit you are stronger than me, even with my new enhancements. Though to be fair, these enhancements are more a detriment than an asset this soon after the procedure, but I'm stronger than I was, and you're stronger still. My compliments to your armorer, but your exceptional strength and durability will not be enough to offset my speed." Megatron sprinted impossibly fast at the downed leader, leaping up and coming down to drive a fist into the center of the chest armor. "Or my ferocity!" Megatron mounted his torso and battered the upper chest and helmet mercilessly, breaching it and sending pieces of shattered screen flying in various directions. "Or my superiority!" He roared just before being batted off by Prime.

Sentinel lurched back up to a standing position, but Megatron recovered even quicker and was on him again, leaping up repeatedly to deliver hammering punches to the best recreation of the mythical Apex Armor Cybertronian science could muster. Chunks of the dense metal, circuitry and sparks of electricity were send spraying away with each strike, sending the heavily protected Prime staggering back. Prime did manage to lower his shoulder and shove back against the Decepticon leader, moving him back and creating a bit of space between the two. He then shot out multiple strikes, various elaborate combinations involving fists, feet, elbows and knees, all making the most of his superior strength and reach, but apart from a tiny few strikes that the miner weathered quite well, most were avoided, blocked or parried, and Megatron was quick and skilled enough to repeatedly dart into striking range and deliver counter punches that were far more damaging than Prime had expected from him.

The hand to hand combat continued for several minutes, and soon evolved to the point where Megatron was avoiding Prime's strikes with apparent ease, while reducing the effectiveness of the armor noticeably after each exchange. Prime pushed him back, putting several yards between the two. "This blasted shit armor is more a impairment at this point, damnit!" Sentinel quickly shuffled back to increase the space between them even further. "Commence ejection from Apex Armor!" The panels on the back of the suit opened, and Prime shot out of the back of it. Whereas the now-collapsing armor suit was battered to the point of being nearly worthless, Prime appeared fresh and pristine. He snarled at the battered gladiator slowly marching toward him. "Time to end this, Megatron!"

"Oh, I agree, Sentinel, I agree." Megatron growled at the still-larger opponent as they ominously strode toward one another, but glanced over toward Soundwave watching from the side of the courtyard. "Do not miss a moment of this!"

"Of course, Lord Megatron. Both myself and Laserbeak are documenting these events fully." Soundwave replied just before Megatron and Prime engaged one another. They were perhaps the two most well trained hand-to-hand combatants on the planet, yet they unloaded on each other with unrefined brutality.

Sentinel was virtually unharmed and almost fully charged at the outset, but within moments any advantage those factors provided him seemed to fade away. After several minutes Megatron was clearly on the offensive, repeatedly battering Prime to the ground and good-naturedly allowing him back to his feet. "Come now, Lord Honorum, you are letting a lowborn, southern, common, cavern-whelped shit from Tarn get the better of you. Not just in this hand to hand bout, but my forces of laborers and other disposables have routed your highly trained professional war-force. I expected better of you. Cybertron deserves better than you." Megatron taunted right before delivering a backhand across the jawline of Prime, sending him back to the ground. "You are no Prime. You never were a Prime. Hell, a Prime is nothing more than a worthless, meaningless fop given an air of importance by some pointless bauble, and you don't even measure up to that low bar." Megatron reached down, grabbed Prime by the ankle, and whipped back, hurling the leader of Cybertron into the center of the landing pad that was laden with flaming wreckage and corpses. The Decepticons, having their battle won and with only the elimination of the wounded or surrendering government soldiers, gathered around Sentinel and the approaching Megatron, but leaving them a wide enough berth so as not to get in Megatron's way.

Rabattus felt strong hands gripping him under his arm pits, and looked up to see Soundwave's face. "Laserbeak, complete the recording, I have another matter to attend to." The blue member of House Torrent didn't bother waiting for the sentient aviaton's reply as he half-carried, half-dragged the senator over and made their way to the front of the group surrounding the two respective leaders. The other Decepticons cleared a path for him, giving him nearly the same respect they gave Megatron. Rabattus watched as Megatron stood over Prime for several moments, allowing the battered royal to take in his surroundings, and recognize the hopelessness of his situation. He looked up at Megatron, a hate-filled glare. "Do you have any idea of what will happen to you?"

"When I hovered over Militus Macht, his life in my hands, he asked me a similar question, and then he provided me with an answer to it. His answer was that you would put our movement down with little to no effort, torture me for years, and then kill me." Megatron replied with no discernable emotion. "I probably could have guessed that's what he would say even before he said it. But you, I genuinely have no idea of what you think is going to happen to me. There's nobody above you. Is Primus going to be so enraged that you were murdered by a commoner with a poly symbol etched onto his chest that he'll come down to smite me?"

Sentinel Prime's resolve was fading from his facial features. "You will be stopped. You will be punished for this." Prime painfully forced himself to his feet, Megatron made no attempt to stop him. "And that punishment, it will be unimaginably horrible for you."

Megatron pursed his lips and nodded, as if truly giving the words some consideration. "I suppose it's a chance that I will just have to take." He then glared deeply into Sentinel Prime's optics. "Your world will die with you. Your elitism will make way for those that truly are superior. And I will enjoy every second of killing you." With that Megatron rushed Prime, his silver arms and black balled fists a blur of gray as he rained down destruction on Sentinel Prime's body. Megatron mounted the downed Prime, his strikes never ceasing, until nothing remained of the planetary leader but pools of fluid and unrecognizable pieces of metal and bio-circuitry.

"Lllll," Rabattus Decimus stammered in terror, "Lord Megatron, please have mercy upon me. I swear to you my absolute allegiance."

Megatron turned his fluid-streaked face halfway toward Rabattus, peering up from his perch upon Sentinel Prime's mid-section. "Lord…" He muttered. "I always hated lords. I guess we all are destined to become that which we hate, at least in some form or another." He then twisted around more to better take in the senator, but his optic traveled off to the side, where Rabattus saw a slender predominantly blue and gray robot with a red helmet smiling at Megatron. "Doctor Rossum, Senator Rabattus Decimus hates rats and bats. See that he becomes what he hates."

"Of course, Lord Megatron." The doctor replied with a grin before turning and nodding toward the Decepticons nearest Rabattus, who grabbed him forcefully and pulled him away from Soundwave's grasp.

"No, Lord Megatron no!" Rabattus pleaded loudly as he was dragged away. "Please, don't do this, I will serve you well! Please Lord Megatron, pleeeeeeeeeeeaaaaassssseeee!" His cries continued without answer as he disappeared into the castle.

Mindwipe

The agonized cries of his former fellow Warden Borebit cut through the frosty and debris-filled air, cries as the painful metamorphosis he was undergoing rearranged his body…that lucky bastard. "You promised me…" Mindwipe muttered dejectedly to the god looking over the screaming mess writhing at the base of the pile of rubble they were perched upon, "you promised me that you would do that for me, and that he would be at my mercy." The dark, winged former Warden was kneeling, lowering his head to peer vacantly into another dip in the pile of rubble that was once the outermost portion of their cavern-built bastion, but slowly re-raised his gaze to look up at the vast creature standing several feet to his right. He had to twist his neck to the point of it hurting in order to view up at the vast being's head. He knew better than to question a god, but all he had done, all he had sacrificed, was to become one of them, and his most fervent desires seemed destined to be denied. "All I did, I did to become one of you."

"You are one of us." The forty-foot giant muttered, losing the interest he had in the writhing Borebit at the base of the pile of rubble he and Mindwipe were perched upon and turning to look at the thousands of loyal minions scurrying around the debris-covered field that had once served as the lone bit of clearing in front of the now-decimated cavern holdfast of the Tartarun Gates. "Look around at my army, Mindwipe." The giant muttered out of the mouth mounted on the central face of his head; two separate, equally monstrous faces flanked it on either side. He waved out over the mass of unkempt robots, demons and monsters. "Less than a third of my followers are Sparkeaters. The others, the Mutants and the Demons, are no less a part of us, our movement."

"The mutants are slaves and a food source, and the demons are just attack dogs you've managed to bend to your will." Mindwipe muttered dejectedly.

"They are more than that, as are you." Violen Jiger replied disinterestedly as he took several steps, descending from the pile of metal and rock they had been perched upon and striding out toward another mound of former holdfast, giving no visible acknowledgment of the winged former Warden scurrying after him.

"But I wish to be like you, not like them." Mindwipe managed to gasp out as struggled to keep up with his master's long strides.

"You cannot be like me." Violen Jiger replied flatly. "I suppose no one can be like me, but you cannot be a Sparkeater. One must have the potential to become one, a spark compatibility that allows for it and the metallico surrounding it to undergo a metamorphosis. It is something that we can sense; your friend Borebit has this trait, you do not." The giant smiled as he peered ahead at what they were walking toward. "But do not envy him. I can choose to exert the power to change them to a fully sentient being losing nothing of what they were, or I can simply put forth a minimal effort to create a beast that has little thought beyond quenching its hunger for sparks…and doing whatever I or my generals want it to do. Your former brother Warden will be the latter."

Mindwipe glanced over to see a Mutant, a being that looked very similar to a standard Cybertronian, but even beyond the physical and psychological wear it seemed far rougher, more brutish, and lacking any hint of any sort of organized alternate mode. The Mutant was dragging a mortally wounded Warden toward three ravenous Sparkeaters of the mindless beast variety. The withered servant of the monsters pulled the groaning Warden into the center of the group, looked up at the snarling recipients of his gift and quickly scampered away, warily regarding the Sparkeater who snapped at him but then descended upon the helpless Warden and tore his chest apart to pull out the glowing blue spark, only to then tear into it greedily, rending its energies free and fighting with each other to suck in the escaping lifeforce. Mindwipe peered intently into their blank optics, shifting from one monster to the next, but on the third the optics turned up and locked back onto his gaze. The beast started toward him; the Mutants were not to be set upon without permission from Violen Jiger or one of his generals, and the Demons were too powerful for them to subdue, but Mindwipe and the other surface collaborators, they were an unknown. "My Lor…"

"No!" The growl emerged from the mouth of the monstrous visage on the left side of Vilen Jiger's head, in a voice that was noticeably different than the one to emerge from the front face. The creatures snarled and snapped in frustrated anger, but they turned and went back to suck any residual energy out of the corpse of the Warden.

"Will that command last?" Mindwipe asked nervously, still staring intently at the trio of creatures tearing the frame to shreds. "How do I know they won't set upon me the moment you walk away?"

"Just as they leave the Mutants alone, they will leave you alone." The massive creature replied dismissively as they approached the side of the mountain. "I have commanded it."

"But they know to leave all Mutants alone, whereas they'll be attacking my kind. Perhaps they'll fail to make the distinction between me and the rest of my kind." Mindwipe nervously muttered.

"The know the distinction, and mutants ARE your kind." The towering leader grumbled. "Sparks find their way to deposits of sentio metallico, just as they do with your species, but it takes place in the catacombs below the surface. They are robot, they have a shell mode, but there's no culture; there was none even before my kind was locked down there with them to enslave them, so they never bothered to learn to alter their shell modes into something useful. But wash them off, throw on some tires, wings or claws, and you wouldn't be able to tell them apart from most surface dwellers." He peered up ahead where six of their Demons were surrounding something, snarling at it threateningly. All ranged from fifty to ninety-six feet in height and were completely savage and bestial looking. "The Demons, however, are completely unlike you. Primordial, savage and instinctive creatures. True, they possess sparks; most green like precious few of your kind possess and a few even gold, like the Guardian's, but they bear traits both organic as well as mechanical, they lack shell modes, and while not mindless, their thought processes are quite simple. I warred with their alpha for eons, he was a powerful brute. I finally wore him down and feasted on his spark as his kind watched. That victory won their submission; well, that victory and a…kinship of sorts I share with them."

"Kinship?" Mindwipe grumbled in disbelief, gazing upon the savage creatures that in many ways seemed just giant sparkeaters with any trace of the former Cybertronians they used to be wiped away. "What kinship could you possibly shared with those…things?"

Violen Jiger stopped and turned on the vastly smaller Nyonian, glaring down at him. "So much was done to me to make me what I am. Thousands upon thousands of experiments, procedures, tests, and even tortures with no purpose beyond simply creating agony in those that would become…me. Over one hundred thousand years the former masters of this world used many as a test subject for every curious thought that entered their many faced heads. They seemed obsessed with combining things; given what they were I suppose that makes perfect sense. And one creature, the core being of what can be considered 'me', that poor brute seemed capable of surviving whatever experiments they could conceive of. They captured a warlord of the machine race, a chieftain of the Shanidar Cliffs Tribe, as well as several of his generals, and based on his great size, as well as the number of their soldiers killed in apprehending him, they assumed him to be powerful." The massive creature touched his chest protectively without realizing it. "They found a green spark within, and…pushed it to its considerable limits. They tried to make his two most loyal generals a part of him…and succeeded in a sense. Their sparks faded, but their thoughts live on in me."

Violen Jiger turned and continued on toward the demons. "The masters managed to capture some of these subterranean monsters, the Primordials is the term used by the masters, and did their best to meld their test subject with these creatures, altering CNA, performing spark altering experimentation, and even grafting internal organs and mechanisms. More changes would take place, but it was at this point that I consider myself to have been born. The emergence of what I am; a collection of tortured bodies and souls imbued with tremendous power and an insatiable lust for the energy of living mechanicals, one far greater and more insistent than with the Primordials that I had inherited the trait from. I was not what the masters were intending when they began their hideous experimentations, in truth I don't think they had any real intentions on what I would become, but when it was completed they found me repellant, a beast that should be put down, but their curiosity kept me alive, as well as the thought that perhaps, maybe, some day, they would find a purpose for me."

The pair reached the demons, Mindwipe looked up at those closest to him in terror, but they had no interest in him, too focused they were on the limbless battered Guardian laid out in the center of them. Omega Supreme still lived, but he was at their mercy. His arms gone below the shoulders, his legs gone just a few feet below his waist, his visor shattered, all weaponry shredded to scraps, he peered weakly up at his tormentors fearlessly, but with nothing more than frustrated anger to back up his courageous glare. His weak optics settled upon Mindwipe and a snarl poured out from his barely functioning mouth. "Traitor."

"No, old friend, he is loyal." Violen Jiger snickered as he stood on a jagged outcropping of rock and metal over the downed giant. "Loyal to me, his god, the god of unlife. The god of Cybertron." The forty-foot monster leapt down and landed upon the chest of the Guardian, who despite being near death, showed no sign of discomfort caused by the landing. "You aren't going to die here. I want the world to see to see you die, and the technology exists to enable that now. My subjects are on their way to claim the home of Paxus, your fellow defender of the Gates here," the beast thumbed back at Mindwipe, "informs me that they have the equipment necessary to record and broadcast your demise. It is there that I will be taking you, it is there that I will be killing you. It seems a proper violation of Paxus's sanctuary." Mindwipe watched as he leaned in closer to Omega Supreme's face. "Don't worry, I will be sure to desecrate the sacred lands of the other bastard Knights, but you seemed most impressed with the polar Knight, so it's fitting that your yellow spark dissipate where his metallico both emerged from and returned to the ground." He stood back up. "In the most agonizing ways possible, and borne witness to by the entire planet." He looked up at the demons surrounding them. "Prepare him for travel!"

Elita Solus

"Chromia, make sure that shuttle is full." Elita called out to her blue friend over the hum of activity caused by the throngs of people gathered upon the House Solus landing pad, nestled in the center of The Grove of Solitude, which itself spanned the distance between Citidel Solus and The Forge. The vast majority of Hyperion civilians were at the central airfield or at various ground transportation depots throughout the city, but House Solus had opened up their compound and provided access to their vessels and aircraft for the evacuation effort. Their attempts to keep the populace calm in the face of the news coming from the north was thus far successful; Taenarus was nearly fifteen hundred miles away after all, but the apprehension was still palpable, and the urgency to get the civilians south and the warriors north was on the forefront of every mind of not just the emirate of Axiom, but the entire planet. "It doesn't need to be packed to the point of discomfort, but we don't have enough ships to be wasting space."

"Aye, my lady." Chromia called back from the open door of the luxury craft she was overseeing the loading of. She turned her head into the craft to verify that everyone was filing in, then turned back to the line of frightened, but still calm and organized robots waiting to board. She casually gazed over them, but caught sight of someone heading through the crowd toward her friend. "Lady Elita, it appears you have company." She noted Elita's confused look and nodded off to the side in the direction of the approaching visitor.

Elita turned and caught sight of the finely tapered form of Starscream, his perfectly formed face and sleek athletic frame contrasting against the boxy, unrefined features of most of the commoners he was gracefully navigating through to get to her. But unlike every other time she'd seen the adopted royal, he was not completely pristine and polished, he even seemed to possess some light scorching and even a dent or two. But he still glistened compared to those around him. "Lord Starscream, to what do we owe the pleasure?"

"My dear Lady Elita, your beauty inspires one to continue the struggle in these dark times." Starscream called out, the rays of the brightly shining sun dancing off his painted metal.

"You flatter me Lord Nexus." Elita replied with a subdued smile. "But I fear that we are quite busy here, so I would ask that you state your business."

"Yes, I wish to cut directly to it, but I need for you to gather every member of House Solus and meet with me within the private confines of the Citadel." Starscream replied with cordial urgency. "The threat from the north is not the only threat we face."

"I have heard of the assaults on the high houses." Elita replied, returning her focus to the evacuation.

"And yet you throw open your gates to the unwashed masses." Starscream judgingly replied. "Perhaps I need to be speaking with Exponum One."

"He's in the control center organizing the launches." Elita replied.

"I'm not as familiar with the Solus estate as you seem to think I am, nor would I simply wander around uninvited." Starscream replied with a smug smile. "Perhaps you could escort me to him. You do have servants that can attend to things while you're gone, don't you?"

"Aye," Elita grumbled before nodding to the guard to her right, "this way." Moments later they were in the landing pad control room, where Exponum One was overseeing the controlling of the air traffic. "Emir One, Starscream of House Nexus is here to see you. He claims to have business with our entire house."

Starscream lowered his head slightly as he greeted the leader of Axiom. "Emir Solus…One. Sorry, the changing of one's name to reflect a title seems odd to me."

"I would not let Sentinel Prime hear that." Exponum One replied as he turned away from the control screens and fully toward his guest. "What business to you have with House Solus, Lord Starscream? I assume it's related to the attacks on the high houses. How fares House Nexus?"

"We were besieged," Starscream indicated to the various scorches and dents on his frame, "but we were fortunate to repel the attackers. Based on your decision to open your gates, I fear you may not fare as well when they come for you. And make no mistake, they will come for you."

"And you're in a position to aid us?" Exponum asked suspiciously.

"I am, though I fear it may be too late to make the necessary precautions." Starscream answered. "I ask that you assemble every member of your house in the primary Citadel ballroom."

Exponum measured Starscream for several moments before nodding and turning to Elita. "Please round everyone up and have them gather there."

"Just members of House Solus." Starscream replied. "Servants and guards of House Nexus were in the number of those attacking us; some were our most trusted subjects."

Exponum once again considered Starscream's words with hesitance, but finally nodded at Elita to make it so. A half hour later the tasks that members of House Solus had been undertaking had been transferred to trusted subordinates, and they were gathered in whole in the vast ballroom of the main level of the giant Citadel Solus. The southern and western facing walls were both transparent, the southern window-wall looking out over miles of pristine wilderness, the western view covering the Grove of Solitude, the landing field nestled within it, and just beyond the famous Forge of Solus, where according to legend the greatest of weapons and armor had been made. Of all the super-weapons carried into battle by the Knights of Cybertron, only the Cannon of Machtus was not forged there. Solus had been an unequalled genius, an engineer and smith of unparalleled inspiration, devotion and skill.

According to legend, an orphan femme born to a previously barren metallico pool in the outskirts of Hyperious had drawn the attention of those attempting to fight off a horde of spark-devouring creatures that had emerged from the badlands spanning the borders of the Tagan Heights, Nyon, Polyhex and Tyrest with her acclaimed weapon-making skills. The beasts slaughtered all they came across, but early on in their assault had specifically targeted the most respected and influential house on the planet. The few surviving members of that house were so impressed with her talent and craftsmanship that they gifted her with their house's most treasured relic, and object that legend has it they took from the treasure vaults of the multi-faced overlords that had ruled the planet with an iron fist until the members of this house led a revolt that freed them all. The sensed this relic to be a source of inspiration for them, and that one as gifted as the young Solus was could possibly achieve impossibly great things with it.

No legend depicts the item that one day would be known as the Matrix communing with Solus, but she did seem to draw inspiration from it. In time her skill as a craftsman was overshadowed by her skill as a leader. In a few short, dark years she found herself governing all of Axiom, leading her people in battle against the vile hordes of sparkeaters, and soon forming a coalition with twelve other orphans from twelve other formerly barren metallico pools in the twelve other regions that would become emirates. They became comrades, they became friends…to varying degrees, and they became the beacons of hope for the rest of the living. They became the Knights of Cybertron, and they led their forces to victory against the forces of the undead; and according to legend, did so in no small part due to the divinely inspired weapons forged by Solus in the ancient structure on the other side of the Grove of Solitude. For her friend Honorius of Iacon, she fashioned a great sword, one of the few objects capable of striking the ravenous sparkeaters dead. The same held true of the spear she gifted Paxus of the north, a weapon potent enough to injure the king of the devourers upon their final push into polar depths that would become their prison, but which unfortunately was destroyed in that final battle. For the mighty Magnus, she created the Chimera Stone, an object capable of energy and possibly power transference from one entity to another, a device that saved them all as the dying Magnus was able to transfer the last of his great strength to the few surviving knights in their final battle to defeat the king of the dead. Legend depicted Nexus as the recipient of the Cyber Caliber, a conglomeration of five separate and vastly powerful bladed weapons that could combine to form a weapon the equal of Honorus's Star Saber, but like with the Spear of Paxus was lost in the final battle. The last of the mythical objects created in the great Forge of Solus, an item Exponum had assured her was very real and housed within the Citadel's great vault, was the Apex Armor, a nearly indestructible yet exceedingly malleable protective shell that made a warrior nigh-invincible, but could only be worn by one the at least somewhat-sentient armor found to be worthy. Of course, neither the armor nor the weapons were enough to keep the Knights from sustaining terminal wounds, but they did enable a victory against a seemingly invincible foe. Though long lasting, the sanctuary offered by that victory seemed to have come to an end.

The murmurs of the ninety-seven children of Solus created a loud, indecipherable hum, but ceased as Exponum One raised his hand to silence them so that the ninety-eighth occupant of the room, Starscream, could address them and say what he had traveled so far to say. The handsome common-born royal smiled and nodded graciously in thanks to the Emir of Axiom before turning and addressing the rest of the House, casually looking over their heads from time to time to admire the view of the southern wilderness. "Lords and Ladies of House Solus, most, if not all of you have gotten word of the attacks on the high houses by what appears to be gladiators who had been a part of an underground criminal fighting circuit. I am here to confirm these as actual events, and not just rumors. Some of you have noticed some of the scorching and denting on my frame, and yes, I received these in battle when House Nexus was assaulted yesterday." Starscream said, eliciting a few gasps and whispers from the crowd of House Solus. "It is only a matter of time before House Solus experiences an attack as well."

Exponum, who was standing next to Starscream, turned to him urgently. "Lord Starscream, it pleases us all to see you safely away from the attack and in good health, but what of the rest of House Nexus? How did they fare? Was anyone hurt or killed?"

Starscream shrugged. "They were all killed. I'm all that's left of House Nexus."

"Impossible!" Exponum One gasped. "Pathos Nexus is dead?"

"I killed him myself." Starscream replied quietly to Exponum, but Elita and others in the first row were just close enough to hear as well.

Exponum took a step back, his optics wide with disbelief. "No, you couldn't have. He loved you."

Starscream shrugged as housings on the outsides of his upper arms fell away to reveal what appeared to be folded up rifles mounted to them. "So?" Starscream snapped his arms forward a bit and the rifles flipped into shape, which he aimed directly at Exponum One and fired into his upper torso, four rounds cutting into the Emir of Axiom.

"NO!" Elita and nearly every other member of her house cried out in shock, anguish and rage, but the sounds of the House alarms erupted, immediately followed by an explosion of shattering transparent metal behind them, drawing their attention away from the assault on their leader. The rounds that had shattered the floor-to-ceiling window of the southern wall impacted with the wall behind Starscream and the collapsing Exponum, exploding and sending stone and metal debris throughout the room. Elita fell to the ground with everyone else around her, but quickly managed to turn her head and peer back from whence the attack came. A white aircraft with light blue wings and two strips of lavender under the wings zipped toward them, slowed before entering the ballroom, transformed into a powerful robot and landed between them and Starscream, immediately turning and firing into the crowd of Soluses. Elita rose to her feat to charge, but heard more commotion behind her, and turned to see a black feraliton leaping at them from behind and tearing into them, followed by an aviaton swooping over them and adding to the carnage with a pair of cannons mounted to its back. "What?" She then noticed at least two score more metal attackers coming at them from the forest line, several in treaded tank modes, but most sprinting in robot mode. Four more jets swooped in and transformed, landed and continued the assault on the unarmed members of her house.

House Solus security charged into the room, but were picked off quickly by what had to have been snipers in the tree line. How could they be so well armed? How could commoners, even gladiators, be so well trained at conducting a highly organized military raid? Just as soon as these questions popped into Elita's head, she pushed them away and looked to Exponum. He was on the ground, holding his wounds, but he was moving, he was still alive. He could still be saved! She transformed to ground cruiser mode and sped toward her leader quickly, her profile low enough in vehicular mode so that no shots connected with her. She transformed back to robot mode while still moving and skidded along her side two dozen feet before stopping next to Exponum's agonized frame. She chanced a glance up at Starscream, but fortunately the bastard had worked his way toward her other kinfolk, laughing maniacally as he unloaded his smuggled rifles into them. She caught sight of her sleek blue and orange broodmate Streamline Solus attempting to charge Starscream, but the charge was cut short as his torso was shredded by an armor-penetrating missile, the damage beyond catastrophic as Streamline bore no armor. Elita watched as the blast nearly tore him in half, shards of dermal plating and internal organs flew through the rain of fluids blasting away from his obliterated frame. His optics were dark even before his remnants hit the fluid-soaked floor. "Brilliant shot, Thunderwing!" Starscream bellowed out laughingly toward the white and blue robot with lavender arms that had murdered her broodmate. The one called Thunderwing only provided sadistic laughter as a reply.

"Come, my Emir, we must get you safe and me a weapon." Elita gasped quietly but forcefully, pushing her arms under her downed elder to lift him.

"Th…th…the Armory." Exponum muttered weakly and painfully, a mist of energon and other internal fluid exiting with his words.

"Which one, my Emir?" Elita asked as she quickly raised them both to their feet and began shuffling quickly toward the door at the back of the room.

"Nnn…no, THEEEeee Arm…THE Armory." Exponum gutted out as they approached the open doorway.

"The Armory of Solus?" Elita replied skeptically. "We keep treasured relics there, no weapons."

"Thunderwing," she heard Starscream call out to the powerful flier just as she reached the doorway, "the Emir and the pretty Elita are trying to leave. Please see that they're returned. Take Kaboom's squad with you, there may be surprises deeper in the Citadel."

Elita tightened her grip on Exponum, ignoring his grunt of pain, and sprinted down the hallway. She displayed a weak smile as a half dozen security soldiers were charging toward them. They were armed; nowhere near as well armed as the invaders, but at least they may provide enough of a distraction to get Exponum safe, wherever that may be. "House Solus is under siege, defend us, save who you can, and either kill or drive out these monsters!"

"Aye, my lady." The lead guard replied as they charged past her, but he stopped and turned back and stopped before her, offering one of his side arms. "Take this my lady, just to be safe."

Elita hesitated, these guards would need every advantage they could get, but he thrust it into her one free hand and was off after his comrades before she could object in any way. Within a moment of the lead guard passing her she could hear the weapons fire of their engagement with the group of invaders that were pursuing she and Exponum. She swore she would join the battle as soon as her Emir was safe, but for now her duty was to get away from the fight. "Are you sure you want us in The Armory?"

"Yes…-cough-, yes." Exponum barked out weakly. "It's the best place for us. Trust me my dear."

Elita didn't agree, but merely nodded and headed where he had instructed her go take then, hearing the cries of her guards and gleeful cheers and laughter of their attackers cutting through the sounds of weapons' fire as she turned down a corridor, running as quickly as she could. They cut around a corner, half-sprinting, half-limping as they made their way through corridors toward the center of the vast Solarium, the ancestral home of those to emerge from the Pool of Solus. The footsteps coming from behind them were getting louder, closer, and Elita instinctively ducked and twisted back, firing as a shot zipped by overhead where her upper back had been a half-second before. Her shot penetrated the forehead of a dark orange and gray colored attacker, killing him instantly, but he falling body revealed two more attackers turning the corner behind him with an aviaton zipping around over their heads. Elita took one more shot before turning and continuing her sprint down the hallway, her target being the wing of the aviaton; she had a chance of outrunning the other two, but not the bird. Fortunately her second shot was as accurate as her first, and the metal bird spiraled down to the ground. "Leave it!" The third robot, Thunderwing, yelled out as he rounded the corner after them with four more attackers in tow. "There's nowhere safe for you to bring the Emir, bitch!"

"Leave me, Elita." Exponum gasped out, fluids sputtering out with his words.

"Not a chance, my Emir." Elita replied as she ducked around another corner, narrowly missing a shot. Up ahead were the massive double doors leading into The Armory, a sacred collection of most of Solus's surviving works. Elita considered the location to be little more than a museum; well secured, but not the most secure location on the estate, and lacking in any practical weaponry. It contained relics, fascinating, beautiful and precious, but of little use in fighting off a battalion of well-armed killers. The sounds of their pursuers' footsteps bounced off the walls as they entered the same hallway that she was sprinting through, and a round impacted the back of her left shoulder, forcing her to drop Exponum. "Ahhhhhh!" She cried out in pain as the round penetrated her shoulder dermal plating, her inner presses and workings, and blasted out the front of her shoulder plating. She spun around, staying on her feet, and leveled her gun-wielding right hand at her pursuers, unloaded on them. The white, blue and lavender Thunderwing dove to the side, avoiding the shots, but the green and black robot behind him caught a round to the abdomen, forcing him to the ground, but his thick armor appeared to weather it well enough for him to start getting back up within seconds. Of course, before he started to rise again Elita dropped her firearm and snatch Exponum's wrist. She lurched back, dragging him a third of the remaining eighty feet to the vaulted double metal doors. "Elita of House Solus requesting admittance to The Armory!" She called out desperately. "Doors to be sealed and locks engaged as soon as Exponum One and I are inside!"

"Affirmative." The feminine voice replied, a voice that Elita and Exponum both had been told was a near match for the original Solus.

The doors began opening and Elita painfully jerked the two of them through the entrance and collapsing onto the floor inside The Armory, one of the dozen rounds fired at them cutting through her outer right thigh. "Ahhh!" She rolled over Exponum One to protect him from any of the shots. "Seal the Hand-condemned door!"

"Affirmative." The response was followed by the deafening sound of the thick metal doors slamming shut immediately followed by the whirs and clicks of the locking mechanisms.

Elita painfully pulled herself off of Exponum One. "Exponum, are you alright?"

"Nnn, no my dear." The emir replied, prompting Elita to gaze intently at the wounds in his chest. They didn't appear to come from large caliber rounds, but the placement was perfect, and while the entrance holes weren't that large, it appeared as though they were designed to detonate after penetration. "I can feel my spark fading."

"No." Elita pled with a whisper, audible over the sounds of yelling from without and the pounding on the doors.

"There is a reason I had you bring us here." Exponum painfully forced the words out. "The Apex Armor."

"The Apex Armor?" Elita shook her head, utterly confused. "It hasn't worked since the war with the sparkeaters…and that's assuming its abilities were ever anything more than myth." The pounding on the doors ceased, and was quickly replaced by explosions against it as various weapons were used to try and gain access.

Exponum smiled weakly. "It is good that Ratchet, and later Orion forced you to question some of your long held assumptions, but it is important that you still have faith in certain things." He reached up and cupped her cheek gently. "The brilliance of Solus, and the effectiveness of her creations were real. You must believe that. The Apex Armor was the pinnacle of her works, it made the wearer nearly impervious to harm, it amplified the wearer's strength five-fold, it held an armory's worth of weaponry,…-cough-…but…-cough-…but it would only allow access to its protection and gifts to the most worthy of us. Only the most courageous, noble, compassionate and honest could bear the armor. It was a safeguard, one meant to keep a weapon of such power from ever being used for evil or the self-service of any individual." He broadened his smile. "I never met the mark to gain entrance to the armor, nor did any of the Axiom Emirs or Solus elders that preceded me. We all stood before it at one time or another, holding the disk reverently and hoping it would find us worthy and open for us, but it never did. You however, are different from all of us, you are worthy. You possess the traits Solus wanted those using her creations to possess. You care not for self-aggrandizement, or to intimidate or batter others for any reason other than justice or protection, or to take what is not yours. You are everything we should all strive to be. Hold the disk, submit yourself to its consideration and ask for it to accept you, and let me see the armor form and open for you. Let me finally see what I've known would happen since I first sat down with you as a protoform and got to know you."

"I…" Elita hesitated, knowing nothing would happen as she stood before an ancient relic that she'd never even laid optic on, and that the lack of whatever magic Exponum had been counting on would likely crush him. "I will try, my One."

"Oh…-cough-, yes, that must be addressed as well." Exponum muttered, but then called out as loudly and clearly as he could muster. "Computer, a transfer of power needs to be arranged."

"A prudent decision, Exponum One," the bodiless feminine voice replied, "I have detected that your spark will fail within moments. You have my condolences."

"I name Elita Solus as my successor, to be elevated to Emir of Axiom and have the title One bestowed upon her." Exponum commanded.

"No." Elita gasped, it almost coming out as a sob.

"Are there any other Solus's to object to the appointment?" Exponum asked fearfully, knowing what the answer would be.

"I regret to inform you that there are no other living Solus's." The computer voice replied. "Elita will be the One in title, and sadly, in truth."

"There will be more." Exponum smiled.

"My Emir," Elita started, but was interrupted.

"Nay, my dear, it is you that is Emir now; you that is One." Exponum gasped out.

"Exponum, I am not worthy of being One."

"Bah!" He snarled. "By any measure save experience you are my better, you will make a great One. But for now, you must make an unstoppable warrior." His optics shifted to the back of the chamber, and Elita turned to follow his gaze, knowing what she would be looking upon. "Go now, let me see it happen while I am still able."

"Nothing will happen." Elita muttered dejectedly while keeping her gaze upon the large gunmetal gray disk hanging on the wall. She had never seen it before, but the tales were familiar.

"We will see." Exponum whispered out. "Now arise, Elita One, as you were always destined to, and take what is rightfully yours."

Elita nodded, but her optics remained fixed on the ornate hanging disk that legend told could turn into invincible armor for the right individuals. She rose to her feet, not even realizing that she had stood or that she had begun taking steps, but the next thing she realized she was standing before the shield-like disk, an object larger than her chest, and was reaching out to grasp it. She was doing it without conscious thought, she didn't realize what was happening until her fingers were wrapped tightly around either side of it. She felt her spark surge, sending out energy, or power, or whatever it could be, but whatever it was, it was surging through her chest, up through her shoulders, down her arms, through her hands and into the disk. The flow of whatever energy from her into the disk caused highlights to glow spark-blue and tremendous power emanated from the disk. She turned around, stunned at what was happening and looked to Exponum for some sort of clarity. She was met by his brightly glowing optics and a near-ecstatic grin on his face.

The disk suddenly opened and waves of power washed over Elita. She felt herself rising as matter seemed to grow beneath her feet, she was engulfed by the indefinable substance, but soon it seemed as though a second skin, despite its bulk. Her vision was obscured by the whirl of substance emerging from nothing to cover her, but her vision quickly returned, as clear as before despite being behind some transparent shield, and through this shield she gazed upon Exponum, his optic now dark, but the grin still on his unmoving face. Around her periphery there were various read-outs, including one she instinctively knew to be a measure of Exponum's spark status, now flat-lining. She stared at her friend, kinsman and mentor for several moments, ignoring the pounding on the heavily dented and weakening doors. "Good-bye…father."

Without conscious thought she had once again traveled across the room, and was now standing before the besieged doors. "Elita One of House Solus ordering the opening of The Armory doors."

"Affirmative."

The doors swung open, allowing Thunderwing to come barreling in, off balance due to the sudden removal of the obstacle he had been expecting. Startled to suddenly be in the room, he looked up upon the hulking twenty-eight foot tall armored form standing before him. "What the…"

Elita was reacted instinctively, whipping a backhand to him, one she expected would push him back a few feet to provide her an opportunity for a more destructive follow-up attack, but the mere backhand sent him sailing back into the hallway, bouncing off the wall, and skipping further down the hallway. Six other attackers charged into the room, but paused, several seeming to smile, and then they stepped aside to allow a huge mechanical aurochabull a clear path at her. The horned beast mode of the invader snorted and seemed to grin at the opportunity to charge her down, completely unintimidated by her armored form or the display of strength against Thunderwing. He had undoubtedly been backed up, awaiting his turn to ram the doors, and was in a perfect position to barrel through her. He lowered his head, stamped his right forepaw, and charged.

All of Elita's training told her that in a situation like this, against an opponent such as this, and evasive move would be best, but she disregarded her training, braced herself, and delivered a straight right punch between the two horns of the beast, her fist battering through his skull, smashing his brain module between the knuckles on her gauntlet, and driving it forward until it battered through his spark chamber. The damage was immediately fatal, the attacker's death was final before he knew contact had been made. Upon recovering from the surprise of her unbelievable strength and destructive capability, Elita swore to herself that this would be the most merciful death she would be delivering today.

A purple and red slender robot looked at the mangled mechanical form the armored warrior was pulling its fist out of. "Concuss? Damn." He looked up at the helmet just as Elita raised her right arm to him and several cannon's emerged from the forearm. "No, wait!" His final words echoed through the hallway, along with the sounds of the rounds that cut him to pieces. Elita engaged the others, and looked down the hallway at the one called Thunderwing, who seemed to be studying her appraisingly before rising back to his feet and running back in the direction of the main ballroom to join the rest of his vile comrades. Elita made short work of those in The Armory before following after him.

Roller Pax

"Computer, how long before the sparkeaters arrive?" Roller called out as he continued studying the screen in front of him, one of several in the vast control room that Olnius had walked him through just the day before.

"Based on their current rate of progress, twenty-four minutes, twelve seconds." The bodiless feminine voice replied.

Roller nodded absently, but was aware enough to recognize the pointlessness of thanking a lifeless computer and therefore refrained from doing so. He continued scrutinizing the screen, one that laid out the coordinates of where a missing ship of House Pax had stopped and the duration of each stop, and the designations for those coordinates by the most recent pilot, Alpha Trion. "Computer, what does the designation CCJ1 represent in relation to extra-cyber coordinates?"

"Cybertron Colony Junk is the most probable meaning." The voice returned.

"That's where he stopped first." Roller muttered to himself. "Probably where he dumped Orion." He continued studying the other coordinates listed. "Computer, in the same context, what is H3?"

"There is nothing in my records or the records of the accessible planetary government that is a likely match for H3, in that context of extra-cyber locations." The lifeless voice answered.

Roller pursed his lips and nodded. "I suppose that makes sense. Computer, same context, what is CCE1?"

"There is nothing in my records related to that location. Upon attempting to scan the data files provided by the planetary government, I have reached a classification restriction." The feminine voice explained.

"Classified?" Roller muttered in surprise, but the surprise on his face faded immediately. "Guess that also makes sense. Computer, the CC prefix indicates a Cybertronian colony, correct?"

"In this context, yes." The computer replied.

Roller stood up and began pacing. "Slag it, what am I even doing? I can't retrieve them, Prime will have them killed the moment word of their return gets out."

"Emir Pax, there is another incoming transmission from Lord Olnius Pax." The computerized voice announced.

"Ughn, again? Fine!" Roller marched back to the console and opened a channel with the flip of a switch. "Yeah, I know, I'm leaving now!"

"You should have left some time ago," Olnius grumbled, "but that's not why I'm contacting you. I mean, yes, you need to leave now, it's insane that you're still th…"

"What's the purpose of your call, Olnius?" The exasperated Roller interrupted.

"Sit down lad." Olnius tried to prepare the youth.

"Out with it!" Roller snapped.

"Sentinel Prime is dead." The announcement froze Roller to the spot, his hands braced on the top of the console he was leaning over silently. "Did you hear me Emir Pax?"

"Aye." Roller sputtered out. "Are you certain?"

"It's possible that the news and the footage that accompanied it are false, but it appears genuine." Olnius explained. "And in light of the extermination of the High Houses…"

"What?" Roller once again interrupted. "What are you talking about?"

"Initially it was thought to be the work of the Autobots, but it seems there's a new group responsible. A group made up of gladiators in the underground fighting circuit, ones bearing the face of the Warrior of the religion of The Hand." The former emir explained.

"The face of…" Roller gasped, "Olnius, Lugnut of House Boltax bears such an emblem, and arrived here in force moments after Sentinel Prime's forces arrived. He claimed it was to aid us; in light of what's happening,"

"He was there to attack us…" Olnius finished.

"Lugnut is not to be trusted! Shit, Orion was right…again." Roller grumbled.

"Orion? When…"

"Never mind." Roller cut him off. "Or rather, save your question for Orion. With Prime dead, my course of action is clear."

"What?" Olnius all but yelled. "Roller Pax, I realize that you may be the new emir, but you must…"

"Sorry Olnius, gotta go!" Roller switched off the communications channel. "Computer, prepare the Stellar Spear for launch. Destination, Cybertron Colony Junk."

Prowl

Prowl hustled through the corridor, the distance he needed to cover wasn't quite enough to justify a transformation, but it was a tempting option if for no other reason than the confusion of a rapid transformation and drive off would shut Cliffjumper up. "Seriously Prowl, how is this not good news?" 

Prowl turned and eyed the short red Autobot as if he'd lost his mind. "What?"

"No, not the Tartarun Gates, I'm talking about these gladiators, these…Decepticons!" Cliffjumper clarified. "Even High Magistrate Gnofin has to admit we're innocent of the terrorist acts now."

"Ekim Gnofin's dismissing of fourteen years' worth of exculpatory evidence isn't going to be wiped away by the Decepticon's attacks on the High Houses." Prowl replied flippantly as they turned the corner and started down a far busier hallway. "Though, if Prime truly is dead, the good Magistrate's primary reason for railroading us is gone."

"Yeah, can't believe the bastard is dea…" Cliffjumper noted a slight wince out of Prowl, "yeah, look, I hated him and all, but I know you two were once friends, so…my condolences."

"We don't have time for that right now." Prowl muttered, but his attention sharpened at seeing Senator Xaaron at the far end of the hall. "Xaaron!"

The senator turned and started walking toward him. "Prowl."

"I assume since you're here in person that the news is true." Prowl didn't ask.

Xaaron nodded. "I'm afraid so. All our experts claim that there's no reason that they can see to doubt the authenticity of the footage sent by these…Decepticons is it?"

"That's what I've heard." Prowl replied. "I've known of their existence, who many of their members were, who much of their leadership was, it's finally nice to have a name to place to their group."

"And a face." Cliffjumper muttered. "Totally stole the idea of taking a Hand societal aspect face from us."

"You're certainly welcome here, my friend." Prowl said to Xaaron as he placed a hand on his shoulder, busy Autobots pushing past them on either side. "You likely revealed yourself as a supporter by coming here, but I believe that members of the Senate may be targeted as well as the nobility, so it's good you're here."

"I doubt the Decepticons would think to look for me in Petrex." Xaaron replied sadly. "And an official member of the government being here might be explained away; your secret safe house is no longer much of a secret, nor is it safe anymore."

"Not my decision." Prowl grumbled in agitation.

"No, it was ours." Jazz called out as he, Blaster, Wheeljack and Metalhawk marched toward them from the direction Prowl had originally been headed. "Some things transcend our cause; what's happening in the north is one such thing."

"The planetary government can organize resistance, evacuation and whatever else is needed." Prowl snapped.

"We claim to represent the people." Blaster replied. "To champion both their rights and their safety. It's time to dedicate more than just words to that. Our decision to reveal our position and make our resources available to aid those who need it was a difficult one, but it was the right one." A commotion from a side hallway drew their attention, and they looked as the crowd of bustling Autobots in that hallway all turned to look at something, and then made way as it approached them. "What's this?"

Mirage of House Decimus cut through the last of the crowd and entered the hallway that they were in, stopping as he caught sight of the Autobot leadership. "What the hell is he doing here?" Cliffjumper snarled.

"He's…he's not our enemy." Prowl replied as he approached Mirage. "He's been helping us for years, anonymously, and in a limited capacity." The white and black former second to Sentinel Prime stopped in front of Mirage. "But Cliffjumper's right, you shouldn't be here."

Mirage was a sight, scuffed, slightly battered and scorched, and nervous to the point of being frantic. "You need to come! NOW! My House has been attacked! There may be survivors, I got away, maybe others managed to hide!"

Prowl nodded. "Yes, we'd heard the gladiator group had been targeting the high houses. I'm sorry my friend, but we aren't in a position to help."

"No!" Mirage snarled. "I'm not your friend, Prowl!" He then turned to the other Autobots. "You four know me, you know I've been advocating for you, arguing the evidence of your innocence! You want to prove you've been innocent all along? Defend a High House! Defend House Decimus!"

"Sirs!" Bumblebee charged out into the hallway from the command room at the end of the hall. "There's a personal shuttle landing in the street outside, it looks to be from House Torrent, and there's a government troop transport holding position just outside the city!"

Prowl looked to the others and shook his head in a scolding manner. "You idiots should have listened to me!" With that he drew a large pistol and headed in the direction that Mirage had emerged from. Moments later he and other Autobots were streaming out of the building and witnessed Megatron, Soundwave and others descending the plank onto metal ground. Prowl shook his head, he had been expecting government soldiers, not the Decepticons. "Oh shit."

Megatron caught sight of the Autobots and smiled, holding his hands up in a non-threatening display. "Relax, Prowl," he caught site of Mirage exit and pushed past Prowl, who turned and noted the royal just in time to wrap his arms around Mirage before the blue and white royal saw the purple symbol of the Decepticons on Megatron's chest and lunged in his direction.

"Bastard!" Mirage roared, nearly pulling free of Prowl's grasp.

"I want him dead too, but…" he nodded toward the other Decepticons emerging from the craft, all heavily armed, "they've got bigger guns than we do."

"You shouldn't want me dead, Prowl." Megatron stated as he casually made his way toward them. "I certainly don't want you dead. I don't agree with many of your Autobot philosophies, but your decision to put aside your own personal best interests to help others in the wake of the news in the north is nothing short of inspiring. At least, it's inspired me." Megatron smiled. "I've put my destruction of the high houses on hold for now. It may take time for that order to trickle to some of my soldiers, but for the greater good I will stay my hand against the living and lead our combined forces to counter the monsters crawling out of the polar depths."

Prowl stared intently and disbelievingly at the hulking gladiator, stunned almost to the point of releasing the still struggling Mirage. "Did…did you just say LEAD our combined forces?" He released Mirage as other large Autobots stepped in to keep the surviving member of House Decimus from attacking the Decepticons and starting a fight they had no chance of winning.

"Yes." Megatron replied. "Decepticons, Autobots, government forces and what's left of the high houses' personal guard." The chrome warrior beamed a broad grin. "I think I've more than demonstrated my strategic acuity and leadership skills."

"You've displayed nothing but a penchant for mass murder!" Jazz snarled, but directed his attention toward Prowl as the former Security Chief raised his hand to stop him.

Prowl, his hand in the air to silence the opposition of his fellow Autobots, continued his stare into Megatron's optics. "We could definitely use your help, your forces and your input, but we will not be propping you up as our new leader, certainly not after all the murder and mayhem you've done in our name over the last decade and a half. And I know for sure that the powers that be certainly won't bend the knee to you."

"My dear Prowl," Megatron responded almost sweetly, "I AM the power that be." He looked to the Autobots behind Prowl, Jazz and the others, all gripping their weapons tightly and just waiting for the moment to engage the intruding gladiators. "But for the good of the planet, I am willing to compromise. We all bring something to the cause, and any in-fighting between us will only significantly weaken that cause."

Prowl nervously looked Megatron over. He couldn't be trusted, that much was certain, but if he wanted to wipe them out, based on the reports of this group Prowl was certain he could do so without the need for subterfuge. "For now, we need each other. Come in, but just you and Soundwave."

Mirage gasped at Prowl's offer of admittance, but then turned at the sound of Soundwave's name and glared at the other royal. "Traitor!" He hissed as Megatron marched by and into the facility with his blue confidant.

Rattrap

"Their defenses and weaponry are primitive to say the least." The big dumbass known as Nightbeat muttered from his swiveling captain's seat in the ship. Rattrap still technically had the drop on him, and could probably take control of this ship, but it could just as easily go the other way and have things wind up with him in this blue and yellow tin-head's brig…which was probably nothing more than a storage closet with a pad-lock. Something he could undoubtedly break out of with relative ease, but not worth chancing at this point, especially as he seemed to be far less of a threat than most of the recent off-worlders were. "We should just go in and break him out."

"Ya' don't get how things work here, doya?" Rattrap muttered in an intentionally disrespectful way. "The Convoys wanted us to go unnoticed by the humans. Granted, two of them died before da' humans became the humans we know today, and da' third, well, he let a bunch of them inhabit the island, even build a civilization…uhm…so, yeah, disregard what I just said. But Polarclaw, our boss now, he wants us to go unnoticed. Totally ripple free."

"So you're suggesting that the humans that are currently in possession of a Cybertronian prisoner…don't know we exist and we're to keep it that way?" The sarcastic jackass replied with a smile.

"Ehhh, I see where yer goin' with this, but like with Cybertron, the governments here don't tell the people diddly squat." The buck-toothed robot shrugged. "And we're good with that. And as we wanna keep the public ignorant, we're gonna be discreet."

Nightbeat shrugged. "I guess we can try to do that. But I need to know the players. What's going on here, who were those Cybertronians you were fighting, and how significant is the threat posed by these hairless apes?"

Rattrap sighed. "The Cybertronians are just the latest batch of colonists to come here laying claim ta' the Manifest, the Ferrotaxis, the resources of this planet, or whatever else they want here. This group is from Eukaris, as was the group from da' first Beast Wars. They tend ta' be more organic animal based with their alternate modes, as you saw with the three scumbags that were attacking me."

The blue and yellow homeworlder looked Rattrap over intently. "So the Manifest truly is on this world then?"

"Nice try, diphead, but I ain't sayin' squat about the Manifest or any of dat other stuff!" Rattrap grumbled, a bit angry at himself over the slip.

"Fine, then tell me of these Beast Wars." Nightbeat asked as he gently swiveled back and forth a bit in the pilot chair.

Rattrap considered the request, wondering whether revealing this information would be any sort of violation to his fellow Maximals or provide this clown any sort of advantage over them. He shrugged as he failed to see any reason not the divulge the history. "We've been here a very long time, and for the most part it was very uneventful, but about two-hundred forty thousand years ago a criminal from Eukaris named Cryotek commandeered a prisoner transfer ship on his world, getting a crew of scumbags, and then hijacked one of the few faster than light space craft they had. He'd somehow come across information about Earth, or Helio-3, as well as other barely known Cybertronian colonies, and came here seeking safe haven for his crew of scumbags. We noted their arrival, we spied on them for a few months, and through no fault of mine, they discovered us as well. They swore up and down they just wanted to be left in peace, their only interest in the planet was that they thought it was uninhabited, and figured they could live their lives. Da' Convoys never trusted Cryotek or his group of Predacons…"

"Predacons?" Nightbeat interrupted.

"Yeah, da' Convoys explained how Nyonian legends talked of ancient animal-warriors named Predacons, and that these guys named themselves offa them." Rattrap explained.

"Yes, I'm familiar with the legends, but very few other are, at least not anymore." Nightbeat replied. "Even in Nyon the Predacon legends have faded from memory."

"Yeah, well, most of the bots and protoforms Guardian Prime chose to stick on the colony worlds were from Nyon;" Rattrap answered, "figured their natural inclination toward animal shell-modes would help them blend in and adapt to the organic worlds. Anyway, Big Convoy, Lio Convoy, Rhinox, Polar Claw and the other Maximal muckity mucks didn't trust 'em, but didn't have grounds to attack 'em and they definitely didn't want to alert anyone…even if we could alert anyone. So we left them be and they left us be…more or less. At least they did for a few decades, until Cryotek found out about…stuff on this world, stuff he hoped to either use to make him more powerful or sell to make him rich. So, the first Beast Wars started. It lasted a few centuries, and ended as Cryotek and his main piece of muscle, a big-ass goon simply named X, fell into a magma pit in a volcano and were assumed dead. We rounded up the survivors, placed 'em in stasis, and that was that for over a thousand years."

Rattrap sighed deeply. "Then came Magmatron. He was a Eukarian warlord, governor, king, chief, whatever, but he was big, and powerful, and smart and unrelenting. He was an accomplished general on Cybertron prior to coming to Eukaris, Big Convoy had known him. BC told us Mags was originally from Polyhex, but due to his shell form lending itself to an animalistic shape he left for Nyon and came into the service of the Onyx's or something. He and Big, they had one of those respectful hatreds for one another. Anyway, when Magmatron came…the first time, he wasn't looking for trouble. His only interest in this planet was that it was an unlikely, but possible destination for Cryotek and the other wanted criminals that he had escaped here with. Big handed over the surviving Preds, and Magmatron left. We hoped that would be the end of it; it wasn't. One of the Preds we handed over was this nitwit named Waspinator. Poor dumb sumbitch musta spent more time in the repair bay during the Beast Wars than out. Anyway, dumb as he was, he apparently not only found a way to escape the pen, but even found a way off of Eukaris. Made his way to another colony, one called Beest." The small Maximal peered down at the ground, an uninvited and unexpected wave of overwhelming sadness filling him. "He came to the attention of another warlord, some king of Beest. Don't know what his original name was, but he must have been able to receive news from Cybertron because he was well aware of Galvatron having been missing for well over seven hundred thousand years at that point and figured like everyone else he was dead, so this king laid claim to the name. So that jackass Waspinator fills in this new Galvatron about…whatever was here that Cryotek had wanted, and Galvatron musters a small but potent force of armed killers to take it, and the Second Beast Wars started." Rattrap shook his head. "By the Hand he was powerful, just so powerful, and every bit as crazy and cruel. We fought that war for over forty thousand years. I used to think how ridiculous it was as a youth when I read about the wars against Deathsaurus and the war against Galvatron each taking hundreds of thousands of years. That second Beast War though, just a few hundred warriors involved, stretching for four hundred centuries…it was unimaginable. We won, but we lost Lio Convoy. He died to defeat this Galvatron, but…well, we won."

Rattrap stood up out of his oversized seat, casually allowing his weapon to hang loosely at his side, no longer bothering to keep it on the large blue and yellow robot. "So, forty thousand years of war was followed by forty thousand years of peace, but around a hundred and fifty thousand years ago ol' Magmatron came knocking again, and this time it was all about conquest. Ya' see, he'd finally gotten around to tracking Waspinator to Beest. He met resistance there, or maybe he didn't, hell, I don't know, but he eventually was able to rifle through pretend-Galvatron's stuff and figure out what Waspinator had told him. Ya' see, Mags accepted the story of Cryotek and crew setting up here to escape at face value…probably because itinitially it was true. He accepted Big Convoy's reason for being here at face value as well."

"What did Big Convoy tell him his reason for being here was?" Nightbeat asked. "For that matter, what is the real reason you're here?"

"Easy buckaroo, need to know your reason for being here before I tell you ours." Rattrap snapped back. "Back to the story, when Mags first visited, BC told him he, LC and us Maximals came here to get away from hatred and plots against House Convoy on Cybertron."

"Hatred and plots?" Nightbeat asked skeptically. "House Convoy was as respected as any of the Royal Houses."

"You're an idiot." Rattrap grumbled, his grip on the gun reasserted. "You claim to be a detective, but clearly you're not one to think things through."

"Then explain what I'm missing."

Rattrap sneered. "I don't have time to go into all of it with you, but think about it, Mr. Detective-Man, Deathsaurus traveled with an army from Simfur along the border of Tyrest for thousands of miles. Do you really think the Ambus's didn't take notice? Or the Magnus's when that army breached the borders of Tyrest and the Tagan Heights? Yeah, the Onyx army moved fast, but not that fast. Finger-One wasn't lifted until it was all over. Explain that, smart guy!"

Nightbeat nodded. "Yes, I have pondered the terrible reaction time in aiding House Convoy. But I always attributed some of that to the sheer ancientness of the event. That was over twelve million years ago. I assumed that the tales have changed and many of the details lost over such a span of time."

"Big Convoy and Lio Convoy were alive when it happened, and while they were away from Convoy lands at the time, they knew all the gory details of what happened, and their tales never changed!" Rattrap snapped. "I was born millions of years after that, shortly before we launched for this mudhole, and I don't give two shits about high houses or nobles or royals or whatever, but I knew those two and I respected the hell out of them, not because their name was Convoy, but because they were worth respecting. And Primal…" Rattrap turned away, once again overwhelmed with sadness.

"Primal?"

"We'll get to him." Rattrap snarled. "Anyway, while not as old as the Convoys, Magmatron was old enough to know concerns of the last two Convoys being targeted by high houses was not so outlandish. He knew royals think they're gods among us, and that they get pissed when a house not founded by a Knight is spoken of with as much or sometimes more reverence than theirs. Which is why he left us alone the first time. But this time he knew what was here…"

"The Manifest."

"Sure, the Manifest." Rattrap replied as if there was another reason. "Anyway, knowing what was here, he felt it his duty to continue where Guardian Prime had left off; i.e., conquer the whole Primus-damned universe and plant Cybertronian flags on every planet worth setting foot on." Rattrap continued. "So he came to Helios-3 and thus began the Neo War." The Maximal let himself get lost in his thoughts for a few moments before going on. "This one lasted for twenty-five thousand years, and when it was over, both Big Convoy and Magmatron were among the dead, having killed each other in the final battle."

"So House Convoy…" Nightbeat muttered, an odd sadness coming over him as well.

"Yes, but not that day." Rattrap replied quietly. "Not sure how good your history is, but it's a little known fact that Deathsaurus attacked the House Convoy lands during a birthquake. A spark came to the Convoy metallico pool, a protoform was born, and it was immediately placed into stasis and spirited away from the Convoy lands. Its existence was kept secret, Big Convoy and Lio Convoy would not take the chance of it being targeted by those that may want to see their House wiped from Cybertron. For twenty five thousand years we remained here without a Convoy, Rhinox and Polar Claw sharing leadership, but around one hundred thousand years ago Polar Claw removed the protoform from stasis."

"Primal Convoy?"

"Aye." Rattrap muttered. "I really didn't get to know him for a very long time; we were spread throughout the planet monitoring for any new threat of incursion from Cybertron or its colonies and frankly, I had no desire to meet this thing with a Convoy name and a Convoy helm but lacking a Convoy upbringing. He'd never measure up to BC or LC, and would only water down my memories of them." A wan smile cut through the gloom of Rattrap's face. "Except he did measure up. You see, we never did recover the body of pretend-Galvatron, nor that of Cryotek. The reason we never found Cryotek's corpse was that he hadn't died. He had managed to drag himself out of the magma pool, and lay in stasis for over two hundred thousand years, slowly healing. When he awoke again he laid low for thousands of years, somehow finding the body of pretend-Galvatron and cannibalizing every ounce of scrap and tech that frame possessed, and came back more powerful than before. He didn't have the physical power of either Galvatron or Magmatron, both of whom likely had green sparks, but he was smarter than they were, and managed to free the surviving prisoners we were holding in stasis, lead them against us, and actually gained access to the Manifest and possession of…something else. Primal rose to the occasion, this final Beast War whittled our numbers down to near nothing, and there were some incidents that changed some of the geologic features of this planet, but he won. He had to sink the island to stop Cryotek and…what Cryotek had set in motion, but he did it, sacrificing himself and killing Cryotek in the process." Rattrap's optics darted to the ground. "Shit, I think I may have told you more than I was supposed to tell you."

"Don't worry, I don't think there's anything you told me that can be used against you." Nightbeat said, but his attention was turned back to the control panel by a flashing light. He turned and flipped a switch, staring at the screen, a look of confusion coming over him. "Prowl?" He whispered.

"What?" Rattrap asked, not having heard what he whispered.

"Huh? Oh, nothing. Just an all-points bulletin from someone no longer in a position to send an all-points bulletin. The blue and yellow robot punched in the acceptance code to receive the notification in text form, and would up re-reading the message several times, unable to process what it said.

"What, what's the message?" Rattrap pressed after patiently waiting for over a minute.

Nightbeat rotated back around in his seat so that he faced the small Maximal, but his optics were off to the side, thinking deeply as he pondered what he just read. "Sentinel Prime…he's been killed."

"Wow, that's kinda big." Rattrap stated.

"Huh?" Still distracted, Nightbeat finally looked at Rattrap. "Oh, Prime dying, yeah, I guess that is big."

Rattrap was confused by the homeworlder's reaction. "Was there more to the message?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah." Nightbeat answered, lost in his own thoughts. "The Tartarun Gates have fallen. Sparkeaters walk the surface of Cybertron once again."

Red Alert

The Capital Spire's main control center was always a flurry of activity, but never more so than right now. Prime's death, the attacks on the high houses, the emergence of this new underground group responsible for both of these things, and the apparently unrelated news that the Tartarun Gates had fallen and Sparkeaters had returned had caused complete chaos in the planetary capital. Red Alert found himself in the unenviable position of trying to keep it all together, attempting an organized evacuation of civilians from Cybertropolis while gathering the military and peace-keeping forces and preparing them to ward off anything coming out of The Torus Heights. Fortunately Sentinel Prime had already made certain preparations in regards to possible threats coming from the polar emirate, but none of those anticipated threats involved super-cybertronian mythical cybervores. Even now Red Alert was beyond skeptical of the reports, but with the exception of their new emir, House Pax has evacuated Tyger Pax and Emir Roller Pax and Lord Commander Kup had convinced Sentinel Prime of the news that the Gates had been breached.

Of course, at the moment he was focused primarily on the details regarding the evacuation of House Honorum from Iacon. They had been under attack up until two hours ago, when these Decepticons seemed to suddenly stop and withdraw and disappear. Many of the Honorums were killed, but many more seemed to have survived the onslaught and were being collected now by government forces. Being in Cybertropolis, Red Alert was way too far away to be involved in the search and rescue efforts going on in Iacon, but he was still in constant communication with his Iaconian counterparts. "Have you found Emir Acumenus yet?"

"No word yet sir," a nervous voice came back through the speaker on the control panel, "but no call to lose hope yet, the guards are finding survivors all the time." There was a long pause. "Red Alert, there's a commotion, wait, yet, it's the Emir, he appears unhurt. Hold and I'll find out what I can."

"Aye, Rollout, I'll be here." Red Alert replied with an affirmation common in the northern parts of the planet.

Several moments passed before Rollout came back. "Well sir, seems the good Emir had gone down to one of the lower vaults to retrieve something when word of the Tartarun Gates collapse came in, and was there when these Warrior-branded bastards attacked. He rode out the attack there. He's carrying some large case with him, I'm guessing it's whatever he went down there to find in the first place, and he's not letting anyone come near it, whatever it is."

"Fine, fine," Red Alert muttered, "just see that he gets on the transport and that it's away shortly. Iacon is barely a thousand miles from Taenarus, The Emir of Nova Cronum should have been away to safety hours ago."

"Uh, yeah, you did know we were under attac…"

"Got it, just get he and the other Honorum survivors to safety now." The white and red robot grumbled into the speaker. "Cybertropolis out."

"Sir, we have an incoming craft." Hopper, the green robot manning one of the sensor arrays on the far side of the room, called out. "Scans identify it as a Class 5 small freight hauler, the serial number given lists it as a craft owned by a rental agency based out of Simfur."

"Simfur?" Red Alert questioned as he quickly crossed the room and leaned over the screen to scrutinize the data scrolling across it. "Why didn't we receive word from the southern checkpoints?"

"It's based out of Simfur, but it's coming to us from The Torus Heights." Hopper replied, but turned his head up in a questioning way. "What the hell is a Nyonian freighter doing coming out of The Heights? Especially an old, low-end rental that's undoubtedly marketed toward commoners?"

Red Alert let out a quiet, humorless chuckle before replying. "Prime searched for years for evidence Roller Pax was smuggling weapons and supplies into The Torus Heights, and Prime is killed right before some of Pax's smugglers land in our lap."

"They're hailing us sir." Hopper announced as a signal on the control board lit.

Red Alert reached forward and opened the channel. "Guardian Spaceport Control Center, identify yourself."

"Name's Shokaract, from Nyon but came to visit a friend in Polarus." The harsh, gravelly voice came through.

"Did you make it to Polarus?" Red Alert asked.

"Yep, was there when we got word the Gates had fallen." This Shokaract replied. "Considered it bullshit and kept imbibing at the pub, laughing at the cowards as they took off and abandoned the bar, then the whole damn city. Heard the Pax's ditched Tyger Pax too, but still weren't buyin' that the spark-suckers were back. Hell, didn't think they ever existed truth be told." There was a long pause. "Know they exist now."

"You've seen them?" Red Alert excited asked.

"Yeah, when we finally got bored of ingesting free, abandoned engex, we made our way to this friggin' pile of crap and were going to head out." The incoming visitor explained. "As we lifted over the city, we saw a long line of…something, making its way toward Tyger Pax from the north. We flew toward it, realized it was some sort of army, then as we got closer we realized that while most seemed to have two arms, two legs, a body and a head, they definitely weren't like us. They were the monsters of our fairy tales."

"They're traveling on foot?" Red Alert asked, but turned to Hopper and whispering prior to getting an answer. "That gives us a bit more time."

"Yeah, they're walking. They seemed so lurchy and awkward, not sure they have alternate modes." Shokaract replied. "But in the robot modes they seem faster and stronger than most of us. Not sure what else you want to know."

"I want to know it all!" Red Alert snapped before again turning to Hopper. "Direct him to land in front of the Control Center. I want to talk to this Shokaract." With that Red Alert turned and made his way to the lift. Within minutes he was on the ground level walking toward the main doors that exited to the various landing pads, and within visual range he saw a beat-up looking old craft lowering to the ground. They were landing about a quarter mile from the doors, about as close to the building as a craft could safely land. It was predominantly orange, with bestial graffiti all over it, something to be expected from a low-end Nyonian rental, and looked to hold thirty normal-sized passengers comfortably; or a little over a dozen weapons crates should that have been the cargo, which given these guys were likely smugglers for Roller Pax, was what was transported to the polar emirate. Red Alert exited the building as the landing ramp of the craft touched the ground and a large, hideous black, yellow and dark blue robot with numerous bestial limbs jutting out of its back marched down and took several steps away from the ramp.

Red Alert stopped and stared at the supposed-smuggler; something wasn't right. His body was gyrating slightly, as if he were laughing, which was difficult to tell as the mouth of this Nyonian was non-standard to say the least. Shokaract stopped chuckling and leveled a gaze at Red Alert that left the security chief completely unnerved, announcing in a loud voice apparently to anyone close enough to hear. "Cybertropolis, I bring you a gift, the gift of Violen Jigr's embrace!" From behind Shokaract emerged forms even more hideous and ungainly than his, being straight out of Red Alert's nightmares. They charged out in all directions, causing panic to the dozens all around them. Red Alert froze for a moment, but only a moment, then turned and charged back into the building, transforming as he cleared the doors and sped down. He instinctively knew he had little chance of escaping this swarm of monsters, but it was his duty to get the word out that Cybertropolis was under attack.

Wreck Gar

"Whatya be seein'?" After fourteen years with Orion Pax living on Junk, Wreck Gar had resorted to speaking proper Common-Era Cybertronian almost entirely. For millions of years the Pidgeon dialect of Junk had been a source of pride for the Junkions, a differentiation from the homeworlders and a reminder of them shrugging off the shackles of colonial occupation. Orion Pax had respected their ways from the moment he arrived, and had even adopted a few of their customs, but while he never looked down those using it, and had always understood and replied to the Junkion way of speaking, he had always spoken proper Cybertronian, and in so doing had influenced many a Junkion to do the same, the Gar included. But sometimes Wreck Gar used the Pidgeon when around the other citizens.

The two soldiers turned and looked upon Wreck Gar and their comrade who they had sent to summon their leader. The three had been out on patrol, the war was over, but there were still soldiers that had fought for Detritus that were still unaccounted for, likely no longer loyal to the dead would-be usurper's cause, just fearful there would be those seeking retribution should they reveal themselves, but still potentially dangerous. Armed three-soldier patrols had been sent out in possession of writs of absolution signed by Wreck Gar, guaranteeing those that revealed themselves and turned in their arms safety from any retribution stemming from their actions during the war. Only Arclight, the last surviving general of Detritus's, would be held accountable.

When one of these three-man teams returned in great haste seeking Wreck Gar, the leader of Junk fears that this team had come upon some of the former insurrectionists and violence had ensued. Instead it was an echo of the past, the relating of an observation reported to him over fourteen years before that had led to so many changes on his world. He instructed Pinion to alert any generals and Lo-Gars in the capital and set off, only a slight nagging in his head wishing that he had not instructed Pinion to spread the word.

Of course, he had to give that order. The scout had come back and reported a flash in the distant night sky, something that seemed to be a rupture in space. Fourteen years ago that flash turned out to be a wormhole forming just outside Junk's orbit, and within a few hours a ship had landed and two visitors from the homeworld had gotten off; one conscious and the other unconscious. Wreck Gar was certain that this time, like with fourteen years ago, it was another wormhole, and what forces he had left had to be on alert in case it was an attack from the homeworld. But deep down he knew it wasn't an attack, deep down he knew it was Atrium of the Crystal City here to bring Orion back home, and it was with great shame that he acknowledged that he would almost prefer it to be an attack. He couldn't bring himself to say Orion had become indispensable to the people of Junk, but he had come to be the greatest asset their planet had, and even he had been hearing the whispers of 'Pax-Gar'. He chuckled at the first time he had heard such whispers, as they came not as a surprise to him, but an affirmation; he himself had made such suggestions to Orion several times recently.

A war he could fight. True, he'd undoubtedly lose a war against Cybertron, and lose badly, but parting with his dear friend and advisor would be almost as hard. Ultimately he knew his actions were correct, and could only hope that word wouldn't be reaching his Pax Lo-Gar anytime soon. But as luck would have it, Orion was in Junkion Prime finishing the oversight of the solar harvester he had planned to have orbiting their star from a safe distance and collect energy to be retrieved and brought back to Junk for usage. The retrieved energy would still not be energon, but it would enhance their lives considerably and could be refined into sustenance far better than the swill they subsisted on.

There was no question Orion would be getting word tonight, Wreck Gar's only hope was that he could come up with a good enough case for Orion to stay here by choice; to stay here away from his brother, his other family, his friends Ratchet and Ironhide and his new friend Jazz, and of course away from his love Elita Solus. He put these considerations aside as the two other scouts dipped their heads at seeing him and started toward him.

"Space be lightin'." One stated.

"But just a sec." The other added. "Blurry, then be lookin' like space again, all blacky."

"Look." The scout that had returned to Junkion Prime to fetch Wreck Gar called out and pointed skyward. An object was cutting through the sky, no longer in space but high above them in Junk's atmosphere and approaching them. Wreck Gar suddenly realized another similarity to the events of Orion Pax's arrival, they were in the same clearing that Atrium's ship had set down all those years before.

He tried to remember exactly where the craft had touched down, thinking that it would be likely for some reason that this ship would do the same. He honestly believed that this would be the same ship, but as he scrutinized the shape of the still distant but rapidly approaching object, it seemed just a bit different, somehow larger and sleeker. Despite the difference, he still thought that it would land in the same spot, so set out to direct the three soldiers he had around that spot. He looked to where his memory was telling him the spot was, and there, still slightly scorched from the prior landing years before, was the landing spot. "Debris, Refuse, blend in there and there!" He pointed out the positions and the two soldiers immediately complied, running to the spots and collapsing to the ground and sinking below the top layers of garbage, blending in perfectly. "Goat, with me." Wreck Gar then turned and positioned himself and the third soldier a few dozen yards from where he expected the ship to touch down. Both of them collapsed into the debris strewn about the surface of the vast clearing and waited.

It took nearly a half hour for the ship to settle into place, and as Wreck Gar suspected, it was not the same craft that Atrium had piloted to their world before. Atrium's ship had been a very nice small transport, larger than a starhopper and of far greater quality and craftsmanship than anything Wreck had ever boarded, but this new ship was finer still. Roughly the same size, but sleeker, almost spear-like in appearance. It settled down, and a little over a minute later the hatch near the ground opened and a stranger stepped out. At least, it was a stranger to the three soldiers, Wreck Gar recognized him instantly, despite having never laid optics on him before. Shorter than average, but not to the point of being considered short, stocky but athletic, predominantly dark blue, possessing a U-shaped crest over his silver face, and armed with a mid-sized rifle. He slowly walked out, eventually passing between where Debris and Refuse were positioned, he was now only a second from being killed should Wreck Gar give the order…possibly even if he didn't give the order if either of this soldiers considered the newcomer a threat. A consideration passed through Wreck Gar's head just for a moment, one asking him if that would truly be such a bad thing. This could be covered up, and Orion would stay, likely forever. The Gar of Junk immediately cast that thought aside and silently chided himself for even creating that thought.

He made a choice and rose from the garbage, his quad-bladed axe in his hand. The newcomer turned and directed his rifle toward him, prompting the two Junkions on either side of him to rise from their hiding spots and make to strike him. "Hold!" Wreck Gar called out to his soldiers, who the newcomer nervously twisted his head around noting them and realizing that he could be killed very easily should things head that direction. To defuse the situation, he raised his axe high above him, and tossed it to the ground. "Goat, 'veal self." With that his third solder arose a few feet from him, short sword in hand. "Junkions, toss weapons."

Debris, still glaring at the intruder, verbally objected. "Gar, tell we we not bein' surrendin' here."

Wreck Gar nodded. "No, we are not surrendering. This visitor is not here to conquer us, are you Lord Pax?"

"Pax?" The three guards muttered in surprise together, followed by an immediate change in their demeanor and the tossing of their weapons. The two Junkions flanking the visitor stepped toward him, giving him gentle slaps on the back before continuing on to stand with their leader. "Kin o' da Pax Lo-Gar bein' kin o' da Junk Folk." Refuse stated with a smile to the blue newcomer as he walked toward Wreck Gar.

A goofy smile came over the visitor as his rifle-wielding arm wend slack and the weapon pointed harmlessly toward the ground. "You know Orion? Thank Primus. And he's safe?"

"Orion." Goat scoffed. "He bein' da' Pax Lo-Gar!"

"PAX LOOOOO-GAAAARRRRRR!" Refuse and Debris howled loudly in unison before giving into a bout of laughter.

"Mayhap Pax Gar?" Wreck Gar stated, causing his soldiers to freeze in place and stare nervously at him with wide optics. He noted their fear and smiled. "Orion Pax make good Gar. Wreck suggest Garchoice in future."

"Wreck bein' Gar of Junk." Goat stated nervously.

"Pax great Lo-Gar, none be doubtin'," Debris added, "but Wreck only Gar o' da' Junkfolk."

"Gar means ruler?" The newcomer asked. "King, Prime, something like that?"

"Aye." Refuse answered.

"Then I must agree with your friends." The newcomer stated as he slowly started walking toward them. "Orion is brilliant, but he is not meant to be here."

"He is!" Wreck Gar snarled, causing his men to take threatening stances toward Lord Pax. "Junk is his home! You betrayed his trust! You cast him away, Roller of House Pax!"

"I did what I did to protect him!" The blue robot snapped back defensively.

"All the more reason for him to stay!" Wreck Gar shot back.

"Sentinel Prime is dead!" Roller stated, his words freezing Wreck Gar's vocal processors for a moment. "It's time for me to take him home."

"Junk is home of Pax Lo-Gar." Refuse growled, finally realizing why his Gar's mood had turned against the newcomer.

Roller stared at the four of them individually before finally settling his optics on those of Wreck Gar. "He is your prisoner then?"

"No!" Wreck Gar objected. "Never."

"Pax Lo-Gar bein' our friend!" Debris retorted.

"Orion is my brother." Roller shot back.

"Orion o' da' Paxes bein' a Lo-Gar." Refuse grumbled back.

"In time, Orion will be Gar." Wreck Gar added, the statement silencing his men once again, but no looks of shock or words of protest followed this time.

Roller sadly looked at them all, then down and seemed to give a short nod before looking back up at Wreck Gar with sympathetic optics. "I understand, but Orion isn't meant to be Gar…he's meant to be Prime."

Wreck Gar stared at him with wide optics. "They wish to make him their Prime?"

Roller looked away. "No," he paused, "no, they don't. Not now anyway. But it's what he's meant for."

"Who is to be Prime then?" Wreck Gar asked, noting the doubt and secrecy within the newcomer.

"I…I know not." Roller replied. "Sentinel only just died. Under ideal circumstances it would take months to select a new Prime without the Matrix, and right now…well…circumstances are not…ideal."

Wreck Gar stared heatedly at Roller. "Explain yourself! What would you be bringing Orion back to?" He took a step forward toward the visitor, now less than a dozen yards separating them. "Is Cybertron truly safe for his return? Answer truly!"

"No." Roller replied, looking emotionlessly into Wreck Gar's optics. "The Tartarun Gates have fallen. Sparkeaters walk the surface once again. I don't seek Orion because he can return, I seek Orion because he must return."

The other three Junkions exchanged confused glances. They were protoforms born on Junk, intended to be ready-made colonists having never stepped foot on the homeworld. All three were born after the revolt and the tossing off of their homeworld oppressors, and were taught very little of Cybertron beyond the threat that it posed them. But Wreck Gar was of Cybertron, was well aware of the legends, and glared with the intensity Roller Pax's intentions deserved. "Madness." He growled. "You smuggle him here to avoid danger, then plan to return him to certain death. Utter slagging madness."

"He's meant to be our savior." Roller replied, his gaze unwavering.

"He's a child."

"Nay, we have reached the age of self-determination." Roller retorted. "And as such, the choice is his."

"You will not be seeing Orion." Wreck Gar snarled.

Roller's gaze immediately turned to a heated glare. "You mean to keep me from him?"

"I will not let you betray him a second time!" The growl was accentuated by the other three Junkions moving forward in a threatening manner.

Roller looked at all of them, then back to Wreck Gar. "You are loyal to him…I'm pleased, grateful and unsurprised to see this. You clearly are protective of him, this also warms my spark. But you must let me meet with him, you must let me say what I came to say to him, and we all must let him make his own choice, to do otherwise would mean that we do not respect him."

The words did sink home to Wreck Gar, but still he leaned toward keeping Roller from Orion. Perhaps in time he would have changed his mind…in fact he knew that at some point he would have acknowledged Roller to be right and allowed him access, but the lights cutting over the hill and the sounds of others driving toward them made it all moot. In seconds a dozen vehicles rounded over the top of the last hill and headed toward them, led by a familiar red and blue form. The vehicle continued toward them until they all stopped about thirty yards out, holding their position in vehicular modes for a few moments before the red and blue freight hauler transformed into Orion Pax and the Junkions accompanying him transformed to robot mode as well. Orion took a few steps toward them, glaring intently at his adoptive brother. The silent stare continued for over a minute before Orion finally spoke. "I thought the planet was smelling worse than usual."

Roller kept his optics locked on Orion's, his face as impassive as it had been, but he took a step in Orion's direction. "You probably want to know what's been going on since you've been gone. The main thing is that about fourteen years ago everything just got…better. It's like a new golden age. Not sure what triggered the change, but everyone's been so much happier the last fourteen years."

Orion, equally impassive, maintained his stare and took a few steps forward as well. "How many crates did you need to stack on the pilot's seat to fly that thing?"

"Just two." Roller replied in a deadpan manner. "Did you know that I get thank you cards from the Autobots every year on the anniversary of your disappearance."

"I would expect no less from them." Orion replied, barely suppressing a grin. "A-Three and I used to go over your tests and laugh for hours at your answers. It's a good think you're highborn."

"You know Torenia had a ceremony where she burned all your stuff?" Roller replied, the slow steps bringing the two closer.

"Don't remember having that much stuff to burn." Orion answered.

"She went to great effort and expense to find stuff you used to own, or even just touched, just so that she could burn it." Roller stated, still stone-faced.

Orion however finally broke and chuckled, and the two immediately closed the gap between them and embraced. "I missed you brother."

"Missed you too, O." Roller stated.

They finally released one another and Orion turned his optics up to the Stellar Spear. "Olnius is going to eject you from the House once he finds out you boosted this."

"I'm sure he would were he Emir." Roller replied.

"He wasn't chosen?" Orion asked in surprise. "I just assumed he would be chosen."

"He was shortly after you…left." Roller answered. "But we had another election recently and he lost."

"And the new Emir is OK with you taking House Pax spacecraft out on joyrides?" Orion asked skeptically. "I highly doubt that."

"I swear it's true, he's totally OK with it." Roller answered with a shrug. "Hold on, I'll double check with him." Roller stepped back and called out into the air. "Hey, Emir Pax, you're OK with me having taken the Stellar Spear, right?" He paused a moment. "Yup, no problem Roller, enjoy the ride."

Orion stared at him in disbelief. "Get the slag out of here! They picked you?"

"Yup."

"Really?"

Now Roller displayed an almost genuine look of hurt. "You don't think I could be Emir?"

"I knew you'd be Emir at some point, just not for another twenty years or so." Orion replied. "You, we're, barely old enough to sip engex…legally anyway." He looked at Roller as the smaller bot shrugged. "Congratulations brother." Orion then nodded back to the ship. "So, my Emir, to what do we owe the visit?"

"Primus, don't call me that." Roller grumbled before answering him. "I'm here to take you home."

"What's changed?" Orion asked intently.

Roller smiled. "Sentinel Honorum is dead." His smiled broadened. "Great news, huh?"

Orion was stunned by the news, and seemed to drift into his thoughts a bit. "It…it…" He turned and gave an almost scolding look at Roller. "I'm sorry my brother, while this removes a threat to me and likely to you as well, I cannot take joy in the death of another, not even an enemy."

Roller looked at him in surprise, then a sour look came over him. "Fine, then take joy in the fact that a terrible leader is no longer abusing his tremendous power, take joy in the fact that life without him will be better for most of the population of an entire planet, including people that mean a great deal to you, and take joy in knowing that you can return home to see those people. Can you take joy in those things, all of which are facilitated by the death of our enemy, you sanctimonious shitbag?"

Orion looked him over appraisingly and shrugged. "Yeah, I guess I can do that."

"Asshat." Roller grumbled.

"Tell him, Lor…Emir Pax!" Wreck Gar growled, having watched all that transpired and knowing that he and Junk were losing a dear friend. "Tell him what awaits him on Cybertron!"

Roller stared at Wreck Gar almost angrily. "Roller?" Orion's questioning voice directing his gaze back toward his brother.

Roller looked down and nodded. "All is not well on Cybertron. Despite Sentinel Honorum's death, it is less safe for you than it ever was. Less safe for any of us."

"Tell me."

"Warriors from the underground fighting circuit have been organizing for years. The terrorist acts blamed on the Autobots have been their work all along, and they just now revealed themselves and started attacking the high houses, trying to kill all highborn and royals."

"Megatron!" Orion growled.

"Who?" Roller asked, clearly not familiar with the name.

"Gladiatorial champion, and as of fourteen years ago the leader of an underground group of fighters intent on upending the world. I'm assuming his group is one in the same as this group that has recently attacked." Orion explained. "Lugnut was with him."

"Yep." Roller answered. "Can't say anything about this Megatron, but Lugnut is definitely one of them. They're all branded with the face of the Warrior, much like your Autobot buddies have the Common Man. But that's really not the big thing."

"There's a greater danger than this?" Orion asked in disbelief.

"Aye brother," Roller replied, "the Tartarun Gates have fallen. Sparkeaters walk the land again. I barely launched before they overran Tyger Pax." Roller noted Orion's optics and mouth opening wide "No, I was the last one to leave. All other members of our House are safe, brother."

"You cannot return to such a situation!" Wreck Gar stated as he approached the two of them. "You cannot make a difference in such turmoil, against so many enemies!"

Orion looked to Wreck Gar. "I believe I made a difference here."

"No question my friend, you were the most impactful presence of our war." Wreck Gar stated as eloquently as he could. "But you were the most powerful warrior on the battlefield here. Against sparkeaters, you're nothing. Nothing but another meal to strengthen them."

"Orion Pax is far more than just muscle!" Roller snapped. "You didn't make him a low Gar because he can lift a lot! You're not planning on making him Gar because he can take a punch! He's brilliant, and fearless, and charismatic, and inspiring, and a born leader!" He squared up across from Wreck Gar. "Tell me I'm wrong! Tell me he's not the greatest natural leader you've ever seen!"

"Aye, he is!" Wreck Gar snapped. "And I will not see such a Cybertronian lost to a sinking ship, one filled with traitorous bastards who look down on him for his low birth."

"The ship is still afloat as of now, and I truly believe he can keep it that way." Roller snapped back. "And most of those on this ship are as low born as he is, but look up to him as a hero…if not now, they soon will. Or do you think that they won't?"

"Corpses can't call another corpse hero!" Wreck Gar retorted.

"There is hope!" Roller snarled, then turned to Orion. "Cybertron needs you, brother."

"We need you, Orion." Wreck Gar pleaded. "Look at what you've done for us. The solar harvester alone will change so much for our planet."

"The sparkeaters are amassing in our home." Roller stated. "They will soon be marching south and spreading out over the planet. There is no negotiating with them, there is nothing we can offer them other than our sparks. I'm going back to fight them. I'm probably going to die in the attempt, as will Torenia, Ironhide, Inferno, your Autobot friends…and Elita."

Wreck Gar sagged. With those words he knew the fight was lost. Orion looked to Wreck Gar, and made to say something, but Wreck Gar beat him to it. "Go my friend. Save them, save them all." Wreck Gar paused as he thought of something. He turned to Roller. "I can promise nothing, but we have space-faring craft here, believe it or not, and…well, just don't be surprised if you receive a transmission with an offer of help."

"My Gar, you cannot make such an offer!" Orion protested. "The Junkions are too thinned out, you cannot sacrifice any more, especially for a planet that has done so many wrongs to you and your people."

"I am still the Gar of Junk, my friend, and if my people are willing to fight for Cybertron, we will fight for Cybertron." Wreck Gar replied. "We will fight for your home, as you fought for ours."

Wreck Gar felt and hand grip his should and squeeze lightly, and looked down to Roller smiling up at him. "I see why Orion holds you in such high regard, Gar of Junk. Know that if we survive this, The Torus Heights will always be your ally." Roller then turned to Orion. "So…shall we?" He asked, motioning his head to the spacecraft behind him.

"Lead the way, Emir Pax."


	17. Chapter 17

Shockwave

Hun-Grrr and his soldiers had almost done an excellent job, members of House Onyx as well as their loyal servants and soldiers lay dead throughout the Draconyx Lair. The job would easily have qualified as excellent were there one more corpse somewhere in the vast estate built into the volcanic mountain, but the primary target, the one Onyx they truly could not afford to let get away, had gotten away. Emir Ogrus Onyx was nowhere to be found. Spies had observed him to be present in the Lair just prior to the assault, but by the time the Decepticons had penetrated the inner sections of the fortress, all trace of the emir had vanished. Hun-Grr's beasts were not up to the task of tracking down their emir, so it fell to Shockwave to succeed where they had failed.

Shockwave looked over the battle-pocked throne room, interested not in the carnage filling it, but in any indication as to where Ogrus could be. He transformed into a huge purple cannon and began emitting various forms of radiation, some of which bounced back as they penetrated different depths of the metal and stone behind the walls. The results came back with several secret chambers, but none housing anything beyond treasure and weapons, and none appearing to continue on to anywhere else. Of course, there was much more to the Draxonyx Lair than this throne room. Shockwave, in cannon mode, used various vents to emit radiation that propelled him off the ground, across the vast room, and up to and out of a large window, the ornate semi-transparent metal that used to cover the opening blown out during the earlier battle.

Shockwave continued into the air, turned and directed his large hexagonal-shaped barrel down toward the mountain housing the estate. Once again he emitted his waves of various forms of radiation, as broad a wave as he could to cover as much of the structure as possible, narrowing his search as readings came back with intriguing results. There were several possibilities, but one stood out. A series of secret rooms in the lowest levels of the mountain fortress appeared to lead to a series of secret tunnels that stretched for miles away from the Lair, under and around the mountain to the next peak of the Nagaxas Range that ran through southwestern Nyon. The subterranean tunnel continued on beyond another peak before seeming to come to an end underneath the third mountain stretching away Wyvern Peak, which the Draconyx Lair was built into. Shockwave knew this mountain covering wherever the tunnel led to be called The Wruen, a shorter but long stretch of a peak. The purple Harmonexian determined that the tunnel reached its end as it connected with a moderately sized chamber underneath The Wruen, and targeted the portion of the tunnel just short of the mountain's start. A powerful blast shot forth from his barrel and cut through the metal, rock and dirt of the planet's surface, boring deep through the ground until it cut into and through the tunnel. The expenditure of energy would have drained him to the point of stasis lock even before his blast reaching the tunnel were it not for the molten salt fusion reactor in his torso. As it was within his body, he had chosen the safest but also one of the most potent of fissionable power sources, a chemical element known in the north as Primordium, named for their sole god Primus, and in the south as Amunium, for Amunus, the Light-Giver and Life-Giver of the Guiding Hand. Shockwave cared nothing for religious nonsense, but the radioactive actinide metal was tremendously valuable and reasonably abundant, and with it he was capable of achieving feats considered to be impossible for the Cybertronian physiology while nearly negating the risks of any sort of melt down within his body.

Still in cannon mode Shockwave descended toward the ground and transformed to robot mode as he entered the hole he had created. Moments later he was within the tunnel his scans had revealed to him, the section he was in was dark save for the sparks shooting out from the battered overhead lighting his blast had destroyed. He proceeded onward, through the dark section, into the next section of tunnel where the lights were functioning. He continued on foot for another mile before nearing what he knew to be the end of the tunnel. As expected, he came upon a dozen guard standing for the door of the chamber at the end. One guard stepped forward, a golden and red brute that appeared to transform into some sort of bear-like creatue. "You…you traveled here alone?" He turned to his eleven companions and burst out laughing. "Let Full Tilt know that the Emir is in no danger." The other guards chuckled as well.

For the slightest sliver of a moment Shockwave considered replying with some sort of sarcastic remark, but the consideration was shelved and he simply advanced and began firing on them with his wrist cannon. The gold and red bear-bot took a shot to his throat, the blast cutting all the way through and leaving him to drop to the floor heavily. With medical attention he could easily survive, but for the moment he was no longer an impediment to Shockwave so the purple Decepticon continued through the barrage of weapons' fire and proceeded to target and destroy the bear-bot's comrades. As Shockwave got to within one hundred feet of the door, automated defenses sprang to life, whirring to target him. He immediately transformed to cannon mode and blasted the first cannon mounted over and to the right of the door. He shot himself forward and to the right ten feet to avoid the shot from the second cannon, targeted that one and destroyed it as it turned to follow him.

The surviving guards were frantically firing on him, but he had spent years honing his armor and enhancing his martial capabilities, and their standard weapons were doing little more than scratching him and leaving small dents. He transformed back to robot mode and spend the next two minutes eliminating the insufficient defense. As the last guard fell to the ground dead, Shockwave transformed again and blasted the door to pieces, revealing a dimly lit chamber beyond. His scans had revealed that there were no more passages; this room was the end of the line, and even before the bear-guard's arrogantly-stupid comment Shockwave knew that Ogrus Onyx was within. Shockwave stepped into the chamber and looked around, taking in the vast array of medical equipment, but settling his gaze on the two large robots standing next to a third robot laid out on a medical slab. The third robot appeared ancient, and looked like he had recently passed on. Shockwave looked to the large robot with dragon pieces hanging off of him. "Hello again, Emir Onyx." He then nodded his lone optic at the downed form. "I assume that this is Triptych, the brain-template."

"You traitorous bastard!" Ogrus growled in a low grumble. "You attack high houses, your own house, in the name of that slagging Macht miner?"

"Yes." Shockwave replied. "I follow Megatron of Tarn, I am one of his Decepticons, and yes, I am a part of the destruction of the high houses, even House Torrent." The purple Decepticon turned to the other large purple robot in the room. "Who are you?"

"I am Full Tilt, Captain of House Onyx Guard and defender of its assets." The robot replied, though there was something in his voice that made it seem as though he was not overly dedicated to his function. Shockwave then scrutinized his appearance.

"You possess features indicating a ground-racer alternate mode." The Decepticon observed. "I would expect a Nyonian, much less a captain of House Onyx's Guard to bear a bestial alternate mode."

Full Tilt turned to Ogrus, regarded him for a long moment, and then turned back to Shockwave to deliver his answer. "You are right, I chose not to cut my shell mode into a beast, as is the custom here. I was born in Simfur, I was large and strong so I came into the service of House Onyx, and I was capable so I got promoted, but I never loved House Onyx." He looked harshly at Ogrus. "I was a meager servant; a slave truly, yes, I received pay, but a servant has the right to leave, a servant has the right to some determination of his fate; I had neither. But fortunately I found a task I could enjoy, I found a master I did not abhor serving." Full Tilt stepped away from Ogrus and stood between Shockwave and the inert Triptych. "Do what you wish to Ogrus Onyx, I will not do anything to stop you, but I will die before I allow you to desecrate the frame of Triptych."

"Traitors!" Ogrus roared. "This truly is an age of treachery, and age of deceptions!"

"Full Tilt," Shockwave called out after regarding Full Tilt's words for several moments, completely ignoring Ogrus, "I accept your terms, though I need for you to recognize the difference between study and desecration."

"You refer to the plan to have him live on in the body of the dragon?" Full Tilt asked.

"A simplification of the details, but yes," Shockwave explained, "that is the plan that I would need to study his frame for. Specifically his brain."

"He will live on?" Full Tilt pressed for details.

"In a sense." Shockwave replied, looking closely at the graying frame on the table. "He is dead, his spark has passed on, and I cannot change that. But I plan to imprint his memories and personality onto an enlarged brain altered to mimic his." Shockwave turned his attention back to Full Tilt. "But it will not be exact. I intend to keep all of his memories, but alterations must be made to diminish his loyalty to House Onyx." Full Tilt stared at Shockwave for nearly a minute before nodding and stepping to the side.

Ogrus stared hatefully at the guard, and then at Shockwave, before he transformed into a four-legged dragon with a pair of arms, a pair of wings, and a long neck carrying a massive saurian head. The beast charged forward toward Shockwave, his jaws lined with dozens of razor-sharp teeth, all pointed at the purple intruder. Shockwave seemed unimpressed, simply staring at the oncoming beast before finally transforming and letting loose with a single shot. The energized blast darted into the dragon's mouth and blew the head to pieces. The beast slumped to the ground, and began a very painful transformation back to robot mode, a robot mode without lower legs, legs that had been made up of the dragon's head and upper neck. Shockwave transformed as well and walked over to stand above the downed emir. Ogrus looked up, ready to plead or rage or negotiate or whatever. It didn't matter, Shockwave had no interest in whatever Ogrus Onyx had to say, he simply leveled his wrist cannon to the emir's forehead and blasted shards of his brain module out the back of his cranial shell. Ogrus's upper body, held up by his hands, collapsed to the floor.

Shockwave looked over to Full Tilt and noted the guard staring down at the dead robot, a sense of subdued elation seemed to be coming off of him. Full Tilt, still staring at the dead emir, spoke. "Tell me of these Decepticons."

Delta Magnus

Decepticons, what a stupid name. A reference to some grand deception they played on Cybertron's highborn masters, or so the claim went. A grand deception consisting of their bombings and other terrorist attacks over the last fourteen years done in the Autobots' name that kept highborn and commoner alike focused on the previously annoying but harmless ragtag group while those truly responsible were able to grow powerful under everyone's noses, culminating in the attacks on the high houses, wiping many of them out of existence, and their execution of the Prime. The execution of Sentinel Prime had been broadcast, as was an almost nonstop barrage of gloating and threats. Of course, these Decepticons had nothing to gloat over to House Magnus; they had done their worst and been found wanting, very wanting. Yes, Magnus's had perished, as had many of their loyal subjects, but when all was said and done, the number of corpses bearing the Face of the Warrior outnumbered those that did not, and House Magnus remained standing and the unquestioned masters of the Tagan Heights.

Delta had lead the defense personally; Emir or not, he was not one to relay orders from the safety of a secured chamber. He was out in the thick of it, taking shots, killing the invaders, and providing an image of power and inspiration for his clan and their loyal retainers to rally behind. And ever at his side was his younger kinsman Ultra, providing almost as great an example of courage and power as he had. Delta looked over the aisle-way of the luxury transport at Ultra Magnus, sitting directly across from him still sporting scorches, lacerations and other battle damage from the defense of Citadel Magnus. Delta had repaired and cleaned himself prior to the trip, Ultra felt it unnecessary to do the same. They had differed on so much over the last fifteen years, ever since the Mistress of Flame, who was seated to Delta's right, had sought him out and informed him he was a prophesy come to life, 'The Devourer of The Devourer'. He had dismissed it, at least initially, but deep down he knew there was something to it. Ever since his birth he had been special. He was unquestionably brilliant, easily within the top five percentile of their species in terms of raw innate learning ability, retention and creative problem solving, he was exceptionally durable even prior to his incomparable armor being grafted to him, and was the strongest Cybertronian that anyone around him had ever known. He was completely unique on the Hydrax Plateau, and over the years he found no one else remotely like him in all the Tagan Heights. He had heard legends of others possessing super-Cybertronian abilities like him, terms like 'point one percenter' and talk of green sparks flowed, but his protoform had emerged from the hotspot with a completely encased spark, so he knew not the color of his life-force, and he had met many thousands of other Cybertronians without meeting another like him, so the nomenclature of the point one percenter term was not in statistical accuracy.

He was completely alone, until Ultra emerged from the pool. Ultra was as big, his frame accepted the vaunted Magnus Armor just as Delta's had, and he was unquestionably powerful. Far more powerful than the still young Delta had ever encountered, and strong enough to offer Delta a challenge in the training range…but he fell short of Delta's raw strength. He had heard the visiting polyhistor of House Ambus mutter the term 'load-bearer' when observing Ultra overpowering other challengers in the sparring ring but falling short against Delta. Ultra was brilliant as well, but again, not quite at the same level as Delta. But the slight inferiority of Ultra compared to himself mattered not to the young Delta, Primus had given him a kinsman, a brother, a comrade that could finally push him, who could finally keep up with him. They became inseparable, brothers in every sense, each other's most cherished and trusted friend.

House Magnus was not nearly the isolationists that the Maximus's were, but at the same time the Tagan Heights tended to keep to itself for the most part. Delta vowed to change that. They would become a part of the world, he would become known to all, his destiny was more than could be contained within a single emirate. He would be a great man, perhaps the greatest. There were many in House Magnus who knew Zeta Prime, and all said that Delta would in time be far more worthy of the title than the noble but unexceptional member of House Decimus. The only thing holding Delta Magnus back was his youth and inexperience, and that was fading with each quickly passing year. But the first true opportunity to claim what was truly his presented itself before enough years and inexperience had fallen away. He was still too young to be seen as a serious leader by anyone outside of the Tagan Heights when Zeta Prime was murdered. The 'obvious' choice to all but those outside of Magnus lands was the imposing and charismatic Sentinel Honorum, and because of Delta's youth and large-scale anonymity, Sentinel was swiftly ushered into the role of Prime.

It was during the funeral for Zeta Prime that Delta Magnus first met the movers and shakers of Cybertron outside his own emirate, and first came into contact with the Mistress of Flame. It was she that removed the distortive veil from his optics and revealed the true expectations their creator Primus has for his creations, as well as Primus's expectations for Delta Prime in particular. Though it was a shrouded revelation, the prophecies were ambiguous to say the least, as they always are, but she was without doubt that the prophecies were about him. His tremendous natural gifts and advantageous birth were given him for a reason. He was to be the savior for his people, Primus's champion. In what capacity, and what the challenges that faced him were unknown, but positioning himself in the most powerful, influential post seemed the best course of action. In a matter of months, Delta had easily gotten elected as Emir of the Tagan heights. The Mistress of Flame merely regarded it as a good start, and Ultra, despite his doubts regarding the Mistress of Flame, remained his most loyal and devoted comrade, and agreed that in time Delta Magnus should be Prime; though his convictions stemmed from more tangible and measurable criteria than those used by the Mistress.

But there were times when Ultra's lack of faith pushed even Delta's patience with his younger sibling. His choice to present himself to the rest of the beleaguered planet in an unwashed, unrepaired, and battle-scarred frame was more an annoyance than a true point of contention for Delta Magnus, but the Mistress of Flame did nothing to hide her disapproving glare of him as she looked his scorched frame up and down. "You are a representative of not just your emirate, but of your Emir himself, The Devourer of the Devourer, The Eroder of Chaos, The Prime of Salvation. You should have taken time to repair and clean yourself, Ultra Magnus."

Ultra displayed a disinterested grin as he replied. "There were injured to attend to, defenses to rebuild, dead to remove from the streets, and countless other tasks of far greater value than my appearance to attend to, my lady. And frankly, showing up as pretty as I can be while the rest of the planet is suffering may be seen as…well, I'd rather be seen as one of them than as above them, at least right now."

"Then I suppose it's good that Primus chose your kinsman, and not you." The Mistress replied disdainfully.

"Enough, the both of you!" Delta spat. "Ultra's appearance truly is a minor thing. And Ultra, repairs may have required more time than we had, but a quick wash would have done our cause good."

"I disagree." Ultra Magnus once again decided to run counter to the Mistress, seemingly just to run counter to the Mistress. "We need to show the other houses that we were bloodied too, but that despite sacrifices, a consistent defense can achieve victory. We need to inspire them."

"Yes, but to inspire them we should present ourselves as leaders, and leaders should look the part." Delta replied.

Ultra smiled. "You're the leader, I'm just a soldier, and I think I look that part adequately."

Delta wanted to smile, he truly did miss the playful banter he often shared with Ultra prior to him having to take on the role destiny had in store for him, but the Emir of the Torus Heights and the rightful Prime had to be above the silly and inappropriate retorts of his kinsman. He had to be Primal in every sense; given the state of the planet, there was a strong possibility that he'd be named Prime by day's end. The planet needed a Prime now more than ever, and there was now nothing to hold him back from taking his rightful place. Discarding the playful rapport with Ultra Magnus was a small price to pay, so he turned toward the cockpit, looked through the open door and through the windshield at the approaching Petrex.

The capital city of Ankmor and seat of House Decimus had been selected as a staging point for government forces primarily due to its location, the selection done by the outlawed Autobots, but their innocence in regards to the murderous terrorist acts was now nearly universally assumed, their assistance was needed, and their reasoning for choosing the staging point was sound. It was roughly one thousand miles directly south of where the mid-point between Polarus and Iacon lay, and fifteen million years ago, as now, Iacon was the largest and most influential city on the planet, and the likely target of the sparkeater army. Petrex presented an ideal location for the government to consolidate its military assets and prepare them to push north, and it also was a good location to assemble a large percentage of the northern civilians and move them south in an organized manner. And a strong, foreign military presence was necessary in Ankmor; of the seven truly northern royal houses, three had emerged from the Decepticon attacks strong and three had been nearly wiped out. House Decimus was one that had been nearly wiped out; according to the latest intel, only Mirage Decimus had survived, though Senator Rabattus Decimus remained unaccounted for, and was rumored to be a Decepticon sympathizer, if not a full out member of the group. Houses Solus and Ambus had not fared any better, for Ambus only Dominus and Minimus appeared to have survived, their survival being owed to them being in another emirate at the time of the Decepticon attack, and for House Solus, only Elita had survived, being named Elita One, Emir of Axiom by the dying Exponum. Her survival, at least according to reports, was far more interesting, a story involving her fighting off the Decepticon attack single-handedly by donning the legendary Apex Armor her ancestor had forged during the first sparkeater invasion. Aid had been sent to both Centurion and Hyperious, and the expectation was that the surviving Ambus's and Elita One would join them in Petrex at some point. House Honorum had sustained many casualties, but nearly half their house still survived. House Pax had been the beneficiaries of fortuitous timing from what had been reported to Delta Magnus, Tyger Pax had been evacuated at word of the sparkeaters breaking free shortly before Sentinel Prime arrived to attack them in force. Prime had been convinced of the sparkeaters, and it was while he and his forces were there that the Decepticons arrived to attack. At seeing the superior government forces the leader of the group of Decepticons, Lugnut Boltax, claimed to have been there to support House Pax and then left before word of the uprisings spread. Apart from Emir Roller Pax, who foolishly decided to remain at Tyger Pax, all other Pax's were unharmed and safely south. The remaining northern royal houses, Magnus and Maximus, repelled the attacks against them, House Magnus suffered the loss of a handful of their members and many subjects, as had House Maximus according to reports, but overall they remained firmly in control of their emirates.

House Torrent was considered a northern house, but the emirate of Praxus straddled the equator and over the ages they had come to be seen as 'too southern' for other northern houses but had never been accepted by the southern houses. But even if they'd been regarded as one of the north's own prior to the Decepticon attack, all Waves were confirmed dead with the exception of Soundwave and Shockwave. Soundwave, the traitorous bastard, was a confirmed Decepticon, and Shockwave, well, enough questions had been raised regarding him to make him suspect at the very least. The surviving descendants of Knight Fluctus could burn in the Pit for all anyone of worth cared.

The shuttle settled down and Emir Delta Magnus stood without a word and proceeded to the opening door, starting down the ramp as it was still descending toward the ground. He heard the heavy but controlled footsteps of Ultra following him, and the lighter and even more controlled footfalls of the Mistress of Flame taking up the rear. Ahead, through the sea of Cybertronians gathered on the outskirts of the city, he saw what had to be the command center with a large gathering of highborn standing just outside the main entrace, surrounded by their various guards, all seemingly focused on one individual in the center of the group, but as Delta Magnus got closer the members of the group would notice him and then regard him with great interest, until all had stepped to face him, moving enough to reveal Torenia Pax and Emir Accumenus Honorum in the center of the gathering, a large case cradled in Accumenus's arms. Delta delivered a sad and respectful nod to both before addressing the Emir of Nova Cronum. "Emir Honorum, you have the deepest sympathies of House Magnus, and all of the Tagan Heights at the tragedy that has befallen your house, and the loss of your many kinsmen and kinswomen, including Sentinel Prime." He looked to both Torenia and Accumenus. "It does my spark good to see you two together, the tensions between your houses have been a point of great sadness and concern for all of Cybertron. We must all come together in this time of great tragedy, great uncertainty, and extreme peril if we are to survive as a people."

"Aye, my friend." Accumenus replied with a sad smile to both Torenia and Delta before stepping to stand directly in front of the Emir of the Tagan Heights. "Despite your youth, you have proven to be an inspiration to us all. House Magnus was attacked like the rest of us, but accounts of your valor and leadership winning the day are being trumpeted all throughout the north." A wave of sadness washed over him, and he started to choke up. "When accounts of the sparkeaters' return reached House Honorum I set out to retrieve this," he gently raised the case in his hands, "our most precious artifact. I had intended to give this to Sentinel Prime, but alas that will never be." Emir Honorum started walking toward Emir Magnus. "You are not of House Honorum, but I can think of none more worthy to honor our house by wielding this, the greatest weapon of the Knights of Cybertron." Stopping before the much larger Delta Magnus, Accumenus Honorum opened the large case to reveal a glorious broadsword housed within. "The Star Saber, forged by Solus to kill the sparkeaters, and wielded by Honorius against their king as he and his fellow Knights drove them down into the steaming depths. You, Emir Delta Magnus, are the one to bear this weapon and lead us to victory over the ultimate evil, as our ancestors did so very long ago."

"Aye!" A few voices, Ultra Magnus's mixed in, rang out, and followed by all around them "Aye!" Another random voice called out. "Delta Prime!" The anonymous call caused silence and everyone to look around at one another, but was soon followed by more cries repeating it. "Delta Prime! Delta Prime! Prime! Prime!"

The calls attracted the optics of the crowds surrounding the group and the command center, and even caused many to walk out of the command center to see to the commotion, but they were silenced as Delta Magnus raised his hands. "My friends, I appreciate the trust and support, but now is not the time." He announced with what appeared to be genuine humility and surprise.

"No, now is not the time!" A gravelly voice called out from behind a large wall of citizens, who parted to reveal a large group walking toward them, and Delta Magnus tensed as he caught sight of the speaker leading this approaching group. "The time for Primes is over!"

Delta Magnus gripped the sword tightly and raised it to a defensive position as the rocket launchers mounted to his shoulders whirred upright to target the oncoming horde, the sound of the whirring echoed by the identical sound coming from the same weapons mounted to Ultra Magnus's shoulders. Delta glanced around him, most of the other highborn were stunned by their terror, only their guards and Ultra seemed ready to meet the threat head on. Delta stepped forward. "Megatron, I was hoping it wouldn't be long before I could deliver justice!"

"Justice its first step when I ended Sentinel Prime's life!" Megatron called back, now one hundred yards away. "Or are you going to tell me that he was a good leader that did not deserve the fate that awaited him?"

Delta shook his head and lied. "He most definitely did not! Mistakes were made, but he WAS a good leader. He was new to the pressures of being Prime, and in time could have become great!"

"Enough with your false humility and attempts to look magnanimous!" Megatron called back, looking to his Decepticons to the sides and behind him and nodding for them to stop and appear non-threatening. He then turned back to Delta Magnus. "You opposed what he stood for and you were jealous of his position. Had you been born even a pulse sooner you'd likely have been in a position to challenge him to be Prime, but alas, you were born in the birthquake that spawned me, and were too young, unknown, inexperienced to effectively challenge him."

"And fifteen years later so much has changed?" Delta barked back.

"It's been a tumultuous fifteen years." Megatron grinned, noting the military forces lining up against his own but doing nothing to stop them from taking position in front of his Decepticons. "There was nothing to test your mettle against until the Autobot terrorist acts and Sentinel Prime's pathetically childish and ineffective railing against them."

"You mean your terrorist acts, don't you?" Delta snarled back. "One of the few mistakes Sentinel Prime made was overlooking the evidence that clearly pointed not at the Autobots, but at another underground group, one linked to the illegal southern fighting circuit, one unknown to us until you broadcasted Prime's murder! His inability to move past the humiliation suffered at the hands of the Autobot-aligned Orion Pax kept him from seeing the truth! But it's all so clear now! In the wake of the monsters of our past resurfacing, you choose to attack us in force! Well, not all of us were easy prey! House Magnus still stands, the biggest impact of your attack on us is that our estate is covered in Decepticon corpses!" He grinned at the former miner from Tarn. "I'd order you to go and clean them off my lands, but instead it's time to administer your due punishment!"

Megatron quietly chuckled at the threat and raised his hands to calm the enraged emir down. "Delta Magnus, not that it holds any weight with you, but I give you my word that I was unaware of the events in The Torus Heights when I ordered my attacks, and when I did hear about the sparkeaters, I ordered my warriors to withdraw."

"We'd already finished withdrawing your Decepticons from the Hydrax Plateau for you by that point." Ultra Magnus called out with a grin on his battle scorched face.

Megatron nodded at the other large Magnus. "Yes, Houses Magnus and Maximus acquitted themselves well. But I'm not stupid enough to have thought every battle would end in success, or that I wouldn't suffer casualties." Megatron then turned to take in the forces that stood to either side and behind him, and then looked back at Delta. "Emir Magnus, you boast that you and your forces will overwhelm mine today. I doubt that you could accomplish that, in fact, I'm certain my Decepticons would end the lives of every last one of you today, but for the sake of argument, let's say that you do attack my Decepticons, and that you do win, wiping us all out and achieving what you consider to be justice. What price do you think that you would pay for such a victory?"

"Whatever the cost, it would be worth it!" Delta Magnus growled back.

"Would it?" Megatron asked genuinely. "You're assembling your forces here to prepare to take the fight to the sparkeaters. If the legends are even remotely accurate, then each sparkeater will be worth at least ten of your soldiers. At best, at BEST you would retain half your forces after combatting me. Those forces you have left would prove to be nothing but food for the sparkeaters. Remember, while you despise me, and while you do not trust me, the fact is that upon hearing of the sparkeater threat I ended hostilities with the highborn oppressors. Unlike you, I recognized the greater evil and set aside my fight with the lesser enemies, hoping that we could join and fight the common foe." Megatron crossed his arms, clearly displaying the shining black fusion cannon mounted to his right forearm. "So I ask again, given that you have the option of facing the sparkeaters with twice your current army, or at best facing them with half your current army, would the cost of attacking the Decepticons truly be worth it?"

Delta Magnus grinned malevolently as he tightened his grip on the Star Saber and took a step toward the Decepticon Commander, but before he could advance further a white and black robot came running out of the command center. "Emir Honorum…" he paused at seeing Delta Magnus and the stand-off with the Decepticons, Magnus chanced a glance and immediately recognized the robot.

"Prowl?"

"Yeah, I thought my joining up with the Autobots was pretty much a known thing by now." Prowl replied, quickly running forward to position himself in front of Delta Magnus, blocking his path to Megatron.

"Yes, it is," Delta Magnus replied, "but it's still surprising to see you here."

"Yeah, well, if you remember, we're the ones that sent out the invitations to this party." He answered. "And in regards to Megatron and the Decepticons…"

"Tell me you didn't form an alliance with them!" Delta roared. "The recent surge in goodwill toward the Autobots will immediately vanish if that's the case!"

"Not an alliance, a truce." Prowl replied. "Though given the odds against us, an alliance is definitely worth considering."

"What is it that you want, Prowl?" Emir Honorum grumbled the interruption impatiently.

"Huh? Oh, right." Prowl replied to the Emir of Nova Cronum. "My Emir, we've just started receiving a feed from Tyger Pax."

"Emir Roller?" Torenia gasped hopefully.

"I fear not, my lady." The former planetary security commander replied. "It depicts sparkeaters walking over the compound, and attempting to string a giant, limbless robot to the Spear of Paxus. Lord Commander Kup has confirmed that the giant robot is Omega Supreme, still alive, but severely wounded."

"They've overwhelmed and tortured the Guardian of the Gates." Megatron called out. "They're toying with him and boastfully broadcasting their victory to shatter our nerve. So Emir Magnus, I ask yet again, twice your army, or half?"

Delta Magnus glared at Megatron for a moment, then shifted his glare to Prowl, who only nodded, prompting Delta to glare back at Megatron and eye him for several moments before grumbling. "Stay your ground Megatron! We will never trust you, but for now…for now we will hold off on killing you and your vile Decepticons." He then took another threatening step toward the former gladiator. "You will come no closer to our encampment though! Confine yourself to the outskirts, or this tentative peace will end violently."

Megatron smirked. "Wise choice. We're here to help."

Roller Pax

"Much better." Roller muttered to Orion as the red and blue robot returned to the cockpit and took the seat next to him. "You'll thank me for telling you to hit the chemical wash, we'll be over The Torus Heights in moments, and probably with the rest of House Pax a few hours later when we get further south, and you don't want to make that reunion smelling like you've been living on a planet-fill for the last fourteen years."

Orion nodded as he looked through the front windshield at the planet of his birth. He had seen orbital views of the world on various screens during his lessons with A-Three, both in person for the first few months of his life and remotely in the months that followed, but this was the first time he had actually seen it from orbit. Roller liked watching the look of awe coming over his brother's face, though to be fair, the first time he had seen the planet in such a way was as he was leaving it a couple days before. Orion must not have realized the newness for Roller, as his comment seemed to be more to someone who was accustomed to the view before them. "It's magnificent!" He whispered. "I had come to believe I'd never be here again, but to actually see it…" He trailed off.

Roller grinned. "A stunned silence from the eloquent Orion Pax? Will wonders never cease?"

"Our planet is a gift, Brother, we must cherish it and see to it that all have the right to enjoy its gifts." Orion said as he continued to view the planet in amazement.

"You truly are a cheese-rod." Roller muttered. "Seriously, by all means have those thoughts and aspirations, but put them through the dork filter before actually giving them voice."

Orion's face took a grim appearance as he leaned back in his seat. "Tell me again about these terrorist acts and why the world thinks the Autobots are guilty of perpetrating them."

Roller shook his head. "The first occurred right after you…left."

"Interesting way of putting it." Orion growled.

"Yeah, well, due to the timing, you know, right after you interrupted the execution of a bunch of Autobots and me kidnapping you in front of some Autobots, it seemed like there was motive for the Autobots to lash out." Roller explained. "And, frankly, you guys were the only organization we were aware of that had the network to pull all these coordinated attacks off."

"If I had still been on Cybertron I could have made everyone aware of Megatron, his group and his aspirations." Orion snarled at his brother.

"Maybe, but maybe not." Roller replied back defensively. "Sentinel Honorum wanted you dead. Any claims you made would have been declared the lies of a traitor, an Autobot trying to push blame away from himself and his comrades, and unfortunately, until the last few years, nobody would have doubted him. Even Prowl wasn't believed by anyone for several years, and even now he's considered a crackpot by most."

"What evidence was there to implicate the Autobots?" Orion asked.

"Faces of the Common Man at every scene." Roller replied. "And, as I mentioned, there was no other group capable of this on anybody's radar."

"So the belief was that we signed our work, and then immediately made public denials that we were responsible?" Orion grumbled in disbelief.

"It's a loosely knit organization of individual cells." Roller replied. "The populace figured first that it was a case of the left hand not knowing what the right hand was doing, and then later they considered it to be attempts at mis-information. And by several months in there were so many killed and wounded, so much of our society disrupted, it didn't matter, everyone hated the Autobots and would not listen to any talk of exculpatory evidence." He stared his brother in the optics. "Look, apart from a few seconds of doubt at hearing the first reports a few days after kidnapping you, I never believed they were guilty. But it was years before I could think of any alternative group to blame."

"And who was investigating it on the government's end?" Orion grumbled.

"Prowl at first, but within a few years he knew it was all bullshit, finally stood up to Prime to tell him as much, and was shitcanned for his honesty." Roller replied. "There were others that followed suit, but Sentinel finally settled on a High Magistrate, Ekim Gnofin." 

"Ughn. Of course he did." Orion grumbled. "The short time I operated in Iacon was enough for me to recognize Gnofin as the amoral opportunist that Prime could trust to look the other way on anything non-incriminating. I can only guess at the mountains of exculpatory evidence that he either locked away or destroyed."

"Yeah, he's a piece of garbage alright." Roller agreed. "He made claims that the Autobots were attempting to try the case in the media, that once he was selected they wouldn't want to go up against him, and other nonsense. Eventually some reporters started evaluating the facts of the case, actually grew some bearings, and confronted Gnofin on the facts of the case against the Autobots. He actually covered his audio receptors and yelled that he didn't want to hear it. But now with Sentinel Prime dead, he's probably shivering in a corner somewhere."

"With the sparkeaters walking the planet again, I fear most Cybertronians are shivering in corners." Orion added, looking out the windshield and seeing the seemingly endless stretch of land separating Taenarus and Polarus. He looked down and noted the groupings of oddly shaped forms marching south, barely visible from their altitude. "Are those them?"

"Yeah, freaky, awkward looking suckers, but according to Kup, they're crazy fast and crazy strong." Roller muttered as he too looked over the groups their ship zipped over.

"You know, now that you're the Emir, you should probably improve upon your vocabulary." Orion quipped with a grin.

"I'm not addressing the Senate, jerk, I'm talking to my brother." Roller replied. "And honestly, crazy is an apt adjective when describing their strength and speed from what I've heard."

"Scan to see if they're capable of transmitting communications." Orion suggested.

Roller did as requested. "Nope, nothing. Don't think they have any real tech."

"Probably not, but I'm sure we were seen by some of those things, so we needed to be sure they can't send word to Tyger Pax or any other outpost with weaponry that might be able to down the Stellar Spear." Orion replied. A light on the control console shown red, and Orion leaned over and pressed several buttons. "This may be my first spaceship ride…while awake at least, but I'm pretty sure that means something's being transmitted."

Roller quickly looked to the screen and relaxed. "Aye, but it's transmitting FROM Tyger Pax." He hit a couple buttons. "Autopilot on, let's take a gander." Roller replied before sending the transmission to a small screen between them on the control panel. They immediately recognized the Spear of Paxus, and Roller recognized the form of Omega Supreme, scorched, battered and sans limbs, chained to it. "Shit."

"Is that who I think it is?" Orion asked.

"Yup." Roller replied.

"How do you know, have you seen him?" Orion asked skeptically.

"Yup." Roller replied, watching the hideous sparkeaters walking around the courtyard he had spent so much of his life in. "Went to him awhile back to enlist his help against Sentinel Prime on your behalf. He felt being at the Gates was more important."

"We need to get him out of there." Orion stated, his tone making it clear that it wasn't a suggestion.

"Uh, sure, good idea." Roller replied sarcastically. "This way they can broadcast the execution the Emir of The Torus Heights and the hero cop of Rodion along with the already scheduled execution of the Guardian of the Gates."

Orion turned at looked intently at his brother. "We're not letting monsters murder a Guardian in our home." Again, it wasn't a suggestion. "NOT in our home!"

"Yeah I know!" Roller grumbled. "Do you really think I argue with you expecting to win? You're right, I know you're right, and I'd follow you into the Tartarun Pits…even back when these monsters were still in the pits. I just find bitching about it to be cathartic."

"Good." Orion smiled at Roller. "Now, any suggestions you might have on how we can achieve this would be most welcome."

"Oh no, this is your slagging endeavor, Orion, you best put that top tenth of one percent intellect to work and figure this out." He noted the look of confusion on his brother's face. "I figured your gifted brain module would remember me telling you I read your test scores."

Orion shook his head and grumbled. "Remind me to report you to the Emir for that." The red and blue returning Pax looked forward out the viewport as he thought. "OK, as Emir I'm assuming you still retain control, even remotely, over the computers, security and environmental settings and other facets of Tyger Pax, right?"

"Yup. You ever want the air conditioning kicked up in your suite, I'm your man." Roller replied, reaching forward to insert a cord emerging from his wrist into the control panel of the craft to begin remotely accessing Tyger Pax.

"I'm not complaining, but by no measure could that closet be considered a suite." Orion replied. "And we'll worry about the AC some other time. Right now I would like all cameras to transmit everything, not just what the sparkeaters intend to show. Maybe some weakness or intention of theirs could be revealed, and if there does happen to be a straggling civilian somewhere in Tyger Pax, we'll need to know. Also, have all the guns ready to go online and target the monsters,"

"Already doing that." Roller muttered.

"Yeah, suppose that was obvious." Orion replied. "I doubt there's any sort of self-destruct function…"

"Nope, just for our data, and I already wiped all that clean prior to launch." Roller explained.

"Yeah, didn't think so. But alarms, lights, water jets, chemical washes or anything else that could serve as a distraction, get those prepped." Orion continued. "And we should see if we can access the armory."

"Not much left there." Roller answered. "When I gave the word to evacuate, I sent most of our weapons out with the other Pax's and our guards. But I've got a lot of weapons in the cargo hold we can use, including a collapsible ion cannon that I had especially made for you."

"I do like me a good ion cannon." Orion smiled.

"You'll really like this one." Roller shot back with a smile. "Erector outdid himself with this thing. Obviously thermal blooming isn't an issue,"

"Blooming? Plasma breakdown doesn't occur with even shitty ion blasters." Orion interrupted.

"I did say 'obviously', didn't I?" Roller snarked back, eliciting a grin from his brother. "As I was saying, the toroid rounds are non-blooming, non-deflectable, and travel at nearly five percent the speed of light, packing a seventeen megajoule explosive force and a confined electromagnetic emission that disrupts electronics within a few feet in each direction, provided those electronics weren't already obliterated by the blast. All in a hand-held…at least for you, weapon that can fold up and fit in a compartment in your back…once we build and install that compartment."

"Fantastical," Orion quipped, "I'll bring my axe too. Never know when a good melee weapon will come in handy." In the distance they finally caught sight of Tyger Pax, just northwest of the much larger Polarus beyond it. "We should put down behind the northern outcropping and make our way home by wheel."

They made their way to the jagged projection of metal just to the north of Tyger Pax, the closest extensions to Tyger Pax of The Crown, the ice-capped polar mountain range that nearly covered the top of the planet, and after ensuring that there were no spark-based lifeforms more advanced than a cyberfox, put the ship down and began arming themselves. An hour later they were on the outskirts of the city-sized Tyger Pax and transformed to work their way in on foot. It had been over fourteen and a half years since Orion had last stepped foot in Tyger Pax, but he remembered every detail of the dark halls and the dozens of courtyards. The two silently but rapidly made their way to a supply building overlooking the main courtyard, across from the towering Spear of Paxus.

They carefully peered out a window to see Omega Supreme, still alive but battered to the point where not for his size, he wouldn't be identifiable. Throughout the courtyard were a multitude of different creatures. There were roughly two dozen of what appeared to be standard Cybertronians, very poorly maintained and not appearing to possess any sort of functional shape or equipment molded into their shell modes, scurrying about performing tasks and cowering at the other two 'species' that were snarling at them. The first non-standard species was composed of what appeared to be six sparkeaters, creatures that may have at one time been Cybertronians, but were now horrifically altered, snarling and snapping at the slaves and at Omega Supreme, but otherwise leaving them unmolested. And last species there was a pair of large beasts, smaller than Omega Supreme, but at roughly sixty feet in height towering over the other creatures, completely savage, bestial creatures with long snouts lined with razor sharp teeth like a saurian predator. These were all that were visible in the area around the courtyard and the Spear, but the Paxes both knew that other monsters were spread throughout Tyger Pax. At the very least they knew there was someone at least somewhat technically adept in the communications center broadcasting the signal.

"Can't explain it," Roller whispered, "but I feel the urge to transform when I look at those big guys."

"Feel it too." Orion replied. "Might be some innate instinct, maybe these aren't so much monsters as primordial predators that hunted our distant ancestors, and maybe our shell modes were used for hiding or protection."

"You're such a nerd."

Orion ignored the playful insult and took on a look of deep contemplation. "Begin transmitting signals from every camera detecting any sort of motion, and be prepared to slam them with every bit of illumination, chemical spray, water spray and weaponry Tyger has. We'll observe these guys for an hour, see if there's anything predictable about them, any weakne…shit."

Roller followed Orion's gaze toward the ground below and noted that something was agitating the sparkeaters nearest them. They were glancing around, seeming to be sensing something, and whatever they were noticing was directing their attention toward the building Orion and Roller were in. "What's going on?" Roller whispered.

"My slagging spark!" Orion grumbled quietly as he stood up and got his ion cannon and large axe ready for action. "They can sense it. Time to engage, but you stay here and direct Tyger's defenses as best you can. Hopefully they won't realize you're here too."

"Yeah, my pathetic blue spark is beneath their notice." Roller grumbled.

"You said it, not me." Orion chuckled as he took two steps back and charged through the window, sending glass spraying down. Three shots left the cannon before he landed, and all three scored head-shots on startled sparkeaters. Their heads virtually exploded, their lifeless frames went down hard, and Orion effortlessly hit the ground and rolled into the midst of the other three, subduing his surprise at the destruction caused by his cannon and cleaving the head off of one with his axe, sending a snap kick into the chest of another that sent it to the ground, and leveled his ion cannon at the face of the third sparkeater, firing on it at point blank range, incinerating the head and sending the frame crumbling to the ground.

Roller wanted to cry out with a victory cheer. He had often wondered whether his memories of Orion's physical formidability were accurate, or if maybe he had built them up to be exaggerated over what really happened. Seeing Orion kill five sparkeaters in a span of 2 seconds while knocking the sixth on its ass made it clear that there were no rose-tinted optics with those memories. Maybe the terror the planet was feeling was unfounded. Perhaps the destruction these creatures rained down on the planet fifteen million years before was due to technologically simple Cybertronians living in isolated tribal groups caught off guard? Perhaps…shit. They weren't dead. As Orion hacked up the sixth sparkeater and leapt toward the advancing…mutants, not sure what else to call the standard but brutish Cybertronian looking guys, the sparkeaters with head wounds started twitching and moving, the damage to their cranial shells stitching together before his optics. Even the decapitated sparkeater's body started moving, its disembodied head's optics glowing to life and mouth moving as the headless hands grasped it and planted it back on its neck.

Orion was tearing through the mutants, and unlike their sparkeater masters, once killed they seemed to stay killed. But one of the giant demons was advancing on him, the other was still obsessed with the captive Omega Supreme. Roller leveled his own ion cannon at the head of the demon marching toward Orion, ready to ignore Orion's command to remain hidden and…oh yeah! Roller engaged the anti-aircraft cannons of Tyger Pax and directed them inward, unloading one of them into the Demon a moment before he was within striking range of Orion. The explosive shells blasted the demon across the courtyard, but it remained in one piece. They were deep enough within Tyger Pax that the heavy perimeter cannons were too far and could not get a shot this far within, but the high towers did have anti-aircraft cannons mounted to them that could target ground based threats from both within and without, though there were limitations to what they could target within the walls of Tyger Pax due to the angles, proximities and structures.

Orion watched the demon bounce across the ground, but was immediately tackled to the ground by two sparkeaters that he had though killed. "Orion!" Roller yelled as he jumped out the window to help his brother, hitting the ground and losing his footing, but keeping his weapon in hand and recovering to fire on the closest sparkeater. He turned his weapon toward the two creatures on Orion, but couldn't get a clear shot due to the struggle. And a struggle it was; each of the monsters appeared to be as strong as Orion, and there were two…now three of them. Roller fired a shot at the third one, hitting it between the shoulder blades, but the shot did little damage and the damage it did do seemed to be healing as soon as the smoke cleared away. He then noted the other three sparkeaters that had been making their way toward Orion now turning to look at him. They seemed torn between continuing after the subdued Orion, or charging the threatening but less enticing blue-sparked Roller. A shot to the face of one of them convinced the still-standing two to go after Roller. "Defenses, target and destroy every moving target that is NOT Roller Pax, Orion Pax or Omega Supreme!" With that the other anti-aircraft cannons mounted on the walls of structures surrounding the courtyard turned inward and down and began picking off sparkeaters, demons and mutants, but those currently on Orion were not targeted due to their proximity to him.

But the red and blue robot blasted one of his assailants off with a thunderous straight right and grappled his way out from underneath the other, the creature tearing a portion of his outer armor off of his shoulder as he pulled free. He rolled to his axe and whirled around, raising it and immediately driving it down to split the head of the sparkeater he had punched. He then raised it again, allowing that sparkeater to drop to the ground and drove it down on the other sparkeater, who was advancing on him with his torn piece of shoulder armor still in the creature's long and clawed gray hand. The blade cut open the front of the creature's torso from throat to crotch, but the beast just gave a cruel smile as the massive gash in his body began stitching itself back together before their optics. It almost seem to be zipping itself up starting at the crotch and working its way up, the outer armor of the stomach started coming together to conceal the massive internal damage already being repaired, zipping up to conceal the cleaved fuel pump and the opened spark chamber emitting a blue…Orion's fist blasted through the cut before the armor could come together over the chest, the sparkeater let out an audio-receptor-shattering cry as Orion seemed to grasp and squeeze something, and then yank his fist out, a glowing orb clutched in his fluid-soaked hand.

The sparkeater stared down at his own spark in Orion's fist, it was a grotesque and polluted looking thing, glowing blue like most sparks, but dark, moving tendrils of…energy, chemicals, pure evil, whatever the tendrils were made of, they slithered over and through the spark, causing it to almost look purple at first glance. The creature kept his optics on it as Orion backed away, a stunned look on the fifteen year old's face at noticing the sparkeater very much still alive, though the repairs to his frame seemed to have ceased. The creature stepped toward Orion, his hands outstretched to recover his dis-embodied spark. Orion side-stepped him, lunged toward the other, now fully healed sparkeater and drove the spark into his chest, releasing it and prompting the still dizzy sparkeater to clutch it. It looked down at it, recognized what it was and raised it to his mouth, but was immediately assailed by the now frantic owner of the spark. As they started to snarl at one another Orion recovered his ion cannon and leveled it at the tainted blue orb, pulling the trigger and causing the spark to explode in the hands of the two sparkeaters.

The sparkeaters, Orion, two mutants and two other sparkeaters trying to attack Orion were all thrown to the ground by the blast, three sparkeater and Orion quickly getting back to their feet with the mutuants slowly getting back up as well. But one form remained unmoving on the ground. The owner of the detonated spark lay dead, its various scorches, laceration and other wounds now remained unchanged, the dark power keeping the creature alive seeming to have abandoned it. "This is being broadcast, right?" Orion yelled out.

Roller forced his optics away from the dead monster and up at Orion, barely whispering his answer. "Huh, uh, yeah."

"Yes," a deep voice boomed out to intercept the answer, "what goes on here is being broadcast, at least that's what my thrall tells me." A forty foot, three-faced terror called out from the viewing deck overhead before leaping out and landing gracefully on the metal ground. "Much of this technological world is yet unknown to me." He grinned at them with all three faces. "But rest assured, your friends out in the world now know that destroying the spark of a sparkeater is the only way to kill one. It won't be enough to keep them from my swift and brutal devouring of them all, but it will offer them hope. To whom do they have to thank for that hope?"

"Defenses, stand down." The smaller blue robot called out hesitantly, taking a chance that they may learn something that would be of value to those receiving what was being transmitted from Tyger Pax. "I am Roller of House Pax, Emir of The Torus Heights, and Lord of Tyger Pax, and you are intruding in my home!" Roller announced loudly as he stepped forward and stood next to Orion. "This is Orion of House Pax, Lo-Gar of…Refurb…" Roller looked to Orion for clarification.

"I think they'd prefer not be mentioned." Orion replied, keeping his optics fixated on the forty-foot monster.

"Pax?" The beast asked. "Of Paxus, you were spawned from the metallico that spawned him?"

"And the metallico that he was returned to after his noble death fighting you monsters." Roller replied, his voice devoid of fear.

"He died fighting me personally, and I enjoyed killing him." The creature smiled through his fanged teeth. "I see the resemblance." He said as he looked at Roller, but his face changed as his gaze shifted to Orion. "But not with you." The giant inhaled deeply through all his bestial nostrils. "You," he pointed at Roller but continued looking at Orion, "you are definitely of Paxus, but you," his clawed finger twitched to Orion, "you are something else entirely." He then looked down at one of the battered but still living mutants. "You, go retrieve the thrall Mindwipe!" The mutant scurried away into the building to do as he was bid.

Orion watched the mutant leave before nodding. "Yes, I'm adopted." He then looked to Roller. "Well, not yet, but I was given the name." He then looked back at the leader of the beasts. "And who do I have the honor of addressing?"

The beast smiled. "Still gathering intelligence for your fellow Cybertronians?" He chuckled, nodding to the various security cameras mounted throughout the courtyard. "No matter, they will know the name of their god or destroyer one way or another, so I might as well share it now. I am Violen Jiger. Apparently the name has been lost over the last fifteen million years to all but the Wardens, but my role as King of the Sparkeaters is remembered in myth and legend."

The king of the enemy turned his head as a winged Nyonian came running out of the building behind him. "You summoned me, oh great one?"

"Mindwipe, you told me that the house founded by Onyx had exterminated the House of Convoy." Violen Jiger accused.

"They…they did, my king." Mindwipe nervously replied. "I am of Nyon, it was one of the earliest truths to be thrust upon me, though I believe two survived. But as I understand it, those two have not been see in in over a million years."

The three-faced beast nodded toward Orion. "Is this one of the survivors?"

"I…I don't know." Mindwipe replied. "I know nothing of the survivors, or of…wait, I know this one."

"You do?" Violen Jiger asked, genuinely intrigued.

"He is Orion Pax," Mindwipe answered, "he was a cop, a police officer, one born in the last pulse. He humiliated Sentinel Prime…twice. He vanished fourteen years ago."

"If he was born in the last pulse, he could not be one of these survivors, now could he?" Violen Jiger asked condescendingly.

"I've been told I have the look." Orion called out. "I am not born of the metal that formed Paxus, but I am not a Convoy either. I was born…well, that doesn't matter, but I only look like a Convoy."

The king of the sparkeaters regarded him with a long stare before inhaling again, his gaze dropping to the ground where the piece of armor torn earlier from Orion's shoulder lay. "You more than have the look." Violen Jiger nodded to one of the sparkeaters and then to the chunk of metal, the beast immediately gathered it up and delivered it to his master. Violen examined the piece, smelled it closely, and then put it into the mouth of his left face and slowly ate it, savoring the flavor. "Wherever your spark emerged, you were born the old way, like me."

"The old way?" Roller asked, more curious than scared.

"His spark is strong, strong enough to pull non-sentio metal and alter it to make it life-compatible." The creature explained, staring intently at Orion. "It's how the giants were made, their star-colored sparks could pull in lifeless chunks of planet and form their bodies with ease, but the strongest of the green sparks could manage it as well. Over millions of years the giants would die, almost always killed by other giants, usually by energy-sucking cyber-predators like my demons, over time their bodies decomposed and rejoined the planet, but their remains mixed with certain metals, and what we know as sentio metallico came into existence, providing weaker sparks compatible material with which to form bodies. Though formed the old way, like with me Orion did have trace amounts of sentio metallico to shape his frame. And I've tasted that metallico before. It was the first I ever tasted. I was created, I was released, but prior to my release I was given advice. There was one tribe that was responsible for organizing the mechanicals of this world against their semi-organic masters, one tribe that led them to victory over my creators, one tribe that could possibly be seen as a threat to me. I may not have sought the destruction of their birthing pits the way the one called Deathsaurus did, but I fell upon the Convoy and wiped out every last one of them, feasting on both frame and fire. I tasted spark and metallico from all over the planet before being sealed beneath the frozen mountains, and over the last fifteen million years I've devoured many a subterranean cousin of yours, but Convoy has always remained my favorite flavor, and I thank you, Orion Pax of House Convoy for bringing it back to me."

"Look, I don't know what to tell you." Orion stated emphatically. "Your description of being born the old way, that makes sense. That fits what I know of my origins perfectly. But me being a Convoy…"

"Corallium Furvus." Roller whispered.

"What?" Orion looked at him questioningly.

Roller looked to Orion and then back to Violen Jiger. "Nothing, let's stay focused on this guy." He then looked to Mindwipe. "Or maaaaayyybe, this guy." Roller stepped forward and pointed at the dark Nyonian. "Hey Wings, you're the guy who was operating the equipment in the control room, right? You're responsible for broadcasting the signal of the cameras out here?"

"Yes." He replied. "Though someone else activated all the other cameras and started sending signals from them."

"Yeah, that was me." Roller replied. "But you're the guy, right? You're the most technologically adept monkey in this travelling zoo, right?"

"Yes." Mindwipe shot back, but gave a sarcastic grin. "Are you hoping to get an army here unnoticed and unmolested by the perimeter cannons while I'm away from my post?"

"An army?" Roller replied, looking at Orion as if sharing a joke of his own. "We don't have an army." He then took a more serious look and started tapping some buttons on his wrist panel. "We do however, have an air force."

"Kill the Pax, subdue the Convoy!" A suddenly bored Violen Jiger called out to his minions and leaned back against the wall expectantly.

"Defenses, re-engage!" Roller yelled out as he and Orion sprang back into defensive action. Orion started firing his ion blaster, scoring head-shots on the sparkeaters, causing their bodies to fall, though only temporarily. He then directed his aim up at an advancing demon, landing a round in its left optic and causing it to roar back in pain, clutching its damaged optic. Unlike the sparkeaters, the damage didn't seem to be immediately under self-repair, but the creature was also vastly more powerful and continued on toward the much smaller red and blue robot. Orion lunged away, whipping his axe at another sparkeater that was making his way toward him, decapitating the creature with the powerful swipe and landing into a rolling position to spring back up to his feet and continue firing on the oncoming killers.

The blasts dropped his attackers temporarily, and Orion used that time to turn and cleave the already decapitated sparkeater near him nearly in two, splitting his torso from its headless neck to its abdomen. Once again Orion reached in, wrenching out the entire spark chamber, and whipped it at a pair of sparkeaters recovering from the shots he had downed them with a second before. The spark chamber landed between them, and Orion pointed his ion blaster and fired, the blast of his round and the exploding spark scorching the sparkeaters slightly and causing all movement from the decapitated body and bodiless head to cease. Orion started to move, but it was too late to avoid the swipe from the one-eyed demon's left claw, a blow that sent Orion bouncing across the ground, but he still held tight to his weapons and was on his feet a moment later, whatever impact the blow had seemed to be ignored.

Roller watched this happening but quickly realized he had his own problems demanding his attention. Two sparkeaters and two mutants were working their way toward him, so he raised his smaller but still very lethal ion blaster and squeezed off four rounds. His aim was true, but only the mutants went down, both still alive by writhing in pain and would no longer be a threat to him. The sparkeaters were merely thrown back by the rounds, and as they recovered and continued forward toward Roller the blue emir could see their gaping wounds stitching themselves shut. "Shit." He muttered, realizing that as potent as his weapon normally was, it would be of little use to him right now, nothing more than a way to buy a few seconds. Of course, that's all he really needed. He directed his weapon at them again and began firing repeated shots, eventually knocking both creatures to the ground, knowing they'd be getting back up, but not before the sound of the approaching Stellar Spear could be heard through the mid-afternoon air. Roller raised his wrist communicator to his mouth. "Open fire on every spark-based lifeform excluding Orion Pax, Omega Supreme and Emir Pax!"

"You already gave that order." One of the injured mutants grunted from the ground.

"Not to this." Roller replied as the Stellar Spear shot overhead and began strafing every moving thing in the courtyard other than the Pax's and the Guardian. The ship targeted the two demons with its most potent cannons, but smaller cannons rained down ordinance at all other hostiles. Even the unmoving Violen Jiger was targeted, but he leapt to avoid it with astounding speed and agility for his size. The few remaining mutants in the area were killed quickly, the sparkeaters would rise again, but it would be minutes for their bodies to pull themselves together after being blasted by ordinance meant for destroying ships or fixed fortifications. The giant demons were sent sprawling and bouncing away by the blasts; they were far more resistant to the barrages than the sparkeaters, though they didn't heal supernaturally quickly like the smaller beasts, and though durable, they were normal, natural creatures that could be killed by conventional means. They were also on the receiving end of the ship's most powerful weaponry, and after the initial strafing run, the one-eyed demon lay dead, the other wounded but able to fight on.

"Roller, give me authorization to command the ship!" Orion yelled out.

"Emir Roller Pax providing Orion Pax authorization to command Stellar Spear and Tyger Pax defenses!" Roller commanded the artificial intelligence systems of the ship and estate.

"It will do you no good, Convoy!" Violen Jiger roared as he lunged out and slammed Orion, a bot barely more than half his height and nowhere near his mass, into the metal ground. Orion started back to his feet, but a lightning fast kick from the giant forced him to drop his weapons and sent him flying back and slamming through the wall of the building that he and Roller had been hiding in prior to their engagement with the monsters. "Submit, become a thrall, surrender that ship, and I will let the two of you live!"

"Eat shit, Triplebagger!" Roller yelled as he unloaded his blaster at the vastly larger creature. Violen Jiger laughed off the rounds and started to march ominously toward the emir. Orion burst forth from the hole he had created a moment before and ran directly for the forty-foot monster. "O, what the slag are you doing?" Roller called out in shock.

"Tyger, target the chains holding Omega Supreme!" Orion called out as he reached Violen Jiger and looked to lunge at him, but instead dove to the creature's side and rolled into a run to the side and behind him, reaching down to scoop up his weapons one at a time before turning and targeting the monster. Only one of the defensive cannons could target into the courtyard, and then it could only hit the chains on one side of the Spear of Paxus that was holding the Guardian up, but the cannon spit forth several rounds and a moment later Omega Supreme was dangling by a pair of chains, the two both linked to a post drilled to the tower one hundred-thirty feet off the ground. "Spear, unload everything you have on three-faced intruder!" The ship returned, whipping around the Spear of Paxus and opened fire on the huge creature. "Release hooked tether in proximity of ground in front of Omega Supreme!" Orion called out as he added his firepower to the ship's barrage on Violen Jiger. A deep thud could be heard at the base of the Spear of Paxus as the released hook and thick tether landed. "Roller, get the hook, shimmy up there and securely attach it to Omega!"

"He's still chained!" Roller yelled back as he charged for the hook to do as ordered.

"I'll take care of that!" Orion answered as he began charging the besieged invader. "Spear, cease fire!" The ship stopped its attack just as Orion leapt up at the head and upper torso of Violen Jiger, maintaining his fire as he slashed at the beast's head. His axe blade sliced through the left optic of the creature's central face, but the wound was healed almost immediately. Orion's leap carried him up high enough for him to plant his left hand on the giant's right shoulder and vault him past and behind the creature, narrowly missing the beast's clawed grasp. Orion somersaulted on his way to the ground behind the beast and landed in a run, again narrowly missing a back-hand strike from the invader. Orion whipped back around, his axe-blade swung in a wide arch, and sliced off a finger of the reaching hand of Violen Jiger. The beast's face took on a surprised look at the speed and power of the strike, but seemed unaffected by the damage caused by it, and smiled as they both watched a new finger grow forth from the stump. Orion's optic-brow arched upward, a display of being impressed, but he immediately shot back into a blur of motion as he called out again. "Spear, re-engage!" He leapt up as the ship's ordinance slammed into the back of Vilen Jiger, Orion took full advantage of the creature's surprise and suddenly divided attention to plant his foot on one of the creature's wrists and leap over him, narrowly avoiding shots from the ship and flinging his axe toward the Spear of Paxus.

The axe spun end over end through the air until its blade thunked into the metal of the tower, cutting through the post and the two chains linked to it. Roller had just gotten the hook slid into an opening torn into Omega Supreme's armor, and was completely surprised as the giant limb-less Guardian dropped toward the ground. He clutched the giant tightly as they started downward. "Spear, lift off!" Roller heard Orion call out as he stared down at the rushing metal ground with the Guardian falling after him to crush him, but just as he was about to hit the ground moved quickly away, and he then watched a red and blue blur shoot up and latch onto the Guardian a few feet from him. "Fly south, a fifth the speed of sound!" Roller looked over and saw Orion peering back at the king of the sparkeaters for several moments as the ship pulled the three of them quickly away from the enemy. Orion then looked back at Roller. "When we recover Tyger Pax, I expect to get my axe back. I worked pretty hard on that thing."

"Sure." Roller smiled. "Are we going to be hanging like this all the way to Petrex?"

"No, let's put about thirty miles between us and them, then we'll set down and get back in the ship." Orion grinned.

"I greatly appreciate the rescue," the booming voice of Omega Supreme called out, "but when you set down, could you remove the hook and reattach it in a less painful manner?"

Orion smiled. "Of course, Lord Guardian."

Bumblebee

The evacuation was a Primus-damned mess. House Honorum still survived, but it had taken large casualties and those that did survive, including Emir Accumenus, had left Nova Cronum to rendezvous with the remaining heads of Cybertron in Petrex. They had left a handful of Honorum guards, and there were some government forces, but ultimately it was the Autobots that were leading the evacuation of Iacon. Hated, hunted, maligned pretty much since their inception, and especially since the first terrorist attacks attributed to them fourteen years ago, the outlaw group was now the only chance these civilian masses had at getting away from this would-be feeding ground before the sparkeaters arrived en-masse. Word was that Guardian Spaceport in Cybertropolis had fallen to sparkeaters. That was only sixteen hundred miles away, and Polarus was even closer. The last thing these poor, ungrateful jerks needed was to be sandwiched between two armies of cybervoric monstrosities.

Bumblebee drove through the tetra-level subterranean autobahns verifying that the residences were empty. Iacon went down a total of seven subterranean levels, each more vile and unlivable than the level above it. Blaster, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had spent their formative years in subterranean Iacon, and even thousands of years later still called the lower levels their home. Bumblebee had initially thought that due to their familiarity with the area one of them should be down here, but Blaster was in Petrex with Prowl, and even if he was in Iacon, his alt mode would not be adequate for high speed area sweeps. The siblings were needed muscle to keep things in order at the transit terminal, and while a surface dweller, Bumblebee was an Iaconian and reasonably familiar with how the subterranean levels worked. He couldn't check house to house, that would take weeks at best, but he had spent the entire day zipping through the main streets of each level blasting a pre-recorded evacuation announcement. Most residents had gotten word from friends on the surface about what was happening, but the Honorum government had done nothing to get word down here. Even prior to the Decepticon attack there was no effort to spread the word to these lowborn of the lowborn. It fell to the Autobots to get the word out and get them out of here.

Most Bumblebee had encountered were resistant to leaving, but he had managed to convince nearly all of them he was telling the truth. But there were many that didn't trust him, the Autobots as a whole, the Honorums or the planetary government at all and just drifted back into their ghettos. There was nothing more Bumblebee could do for them, nothing other than pray that Primus kept them safe. He had cleared, as best he could, levels seven through five and was almost down with the fourth. Just three more to go…his estimate put that at another seven hours. "Ugh." He wished he had the tools to be 'needed muscle' so that he could at least be on the surface with others. "BZZZ" A comm-request was coming through. He examined the source point, saw Petrex and opened the channel. "Bee here."

"Hey Bee, Prowl." The former head of planetary security announced.

A lot of Autobots didn't like Prowl, for various reasons. Some couldn't get past his prior relationship with Sentinel Prime, some didn't like that with a head's up of a Decepticon attack and facilitating the recruitment of Grimlock's group he could just join…and let's be honest, Grimlock's group never really joined the Autobots, they were more along the lines of sharing the enemies of the Autobot's enemies. But mostly many Autobots didn't like Prowl because he was a bit of a jerk. Of course, all these reasons seemed kind of petty given Prowl's contributions. The guy was very smart, one of the smartest guys Bumblebee knew, and he was more aware of what the government forces were going to do that even the government forces were, and he was great at figuring out where their assets needed to be placed, though that probably falls under the very smart umbrella…, anyway, better reply. "Hey Prowl, what do you need. I'm away from the Iacon HQ, going through the subterranean levels wrangling up stragglers."

"Well get out of there and head to Petrex with the rest of the Autobots. We need to organize with the other forces here." Prowl ordered.

"But what about…"

"They've been told. Everyone in the catacombs has been informed of what's heading their way." Prowl cut him off. "They either believe it and are on their way out, or they don't and anything you have to say to them won't amount to a bucket of slag, so head to the surface. If it makes you feel better, continue playing the message as you go, but you're to head topside and get south now."

"Those that stay won't stand a chance." Bumblebee grumbled.

"No, but if you do happen upon anyone unwilling to run, let them know that there are three distinct species they may have to contend with." Prowl explained. "Lowest rung on the monster scale are what we've taken to calling mutants, and from what we can tell they're just standard Cybertronians born in the pits beneath the polar mountains, trapped into servitude or being prey to the sparkeaters. They can be killed just like we can, and they don't appear to have any useful alt modes beyond their initial shells. Next group are the sparkeaters, from what we can tell they used to be Cybertronians, but they've been changed significantly, and those changes make them stronger and faster that we are, along with an insatiable hunger for sparks. Oh, and it appears they can sense sparks, and are drawn to stronger ones. And they recover from virtually any injury, even the most fatally damaging wound heals in moments – they're almost un-killable."

"How do you know this?" Bee asked.

"They're inhabiting Tyger Pax, and transmissions showing them have been sent." Prowl answered.

"How much stronger and faster are they than us?" Bee sped toward the closest ramp leading to the tertiary-level.

Prowl chuckled. "You remember Orion Pax, don't you? Pretty strong, right?"

"Yeah, pretty strong is a ridiculous understatement." Bee cut back. "Why?"

"Some of the footage out of Tyger Pax showed him fighting these things." Prowl explained.

"Orion is alive?" Bee cheerfully yelled out.

"Yeah, anyway, it looked like basic, run of the mill sparkeaters were at least as strong as he was." Prowl continued. "About as fast too, and having overseen much of his academy training, that's probably more impressive than matching his strength. But they seem stupid, and aside from their natural gifts they don't appear to use weapons."

"They're strong and fast like Orion and are un-killable," Bumblebee grumbled, "doesn't sound like they need weapons."

"Almost un-killable," Prowl retorted, "Pax found a way to kill them though. Tear their sparks out of their chests and destroy the spark. They drop dead and stop getting up."

"Oh, that's all?" Bee quipped sarcastically as he zipped around the autobahns three levels below Iacon's surface.

"Yeah, so tell anyone you come across to just cut them open and kill them that way." Prowl joked back. "Next species is something we're calling demons, some of us anyway, others have taken to the name primordials. Big monstrous creatures, range from forty to nearly one hundred feet in height from what we can tell. Perceptor thinks they may have walked the surface in our very distant past,"

"Yeah, Orion told me something about giant creatures killing off the dracosaurs dozens of millions of years ago or something."

"Yeah, great, we'll let the nerds figure out their origins, but they're big, they're incredibly strong, they're faster than you'd think given their size, and we believe they can syphon energy from spark-based lifeforms, but we've yet to confirm that." Prowl explained. "But they appear to be mortal, at least as mortal as we are. They can be killed with powerful weaponry. Nothing that the commoners you're trying to warn would have, but if you are able to kill one, you only have to do so once."

"OK, sounds awful." Bumblebee spotted signs for the secondary level ramps. "So that's it, just the three kinds?"

"Well, there's actually a forth, but we think this guy's unique."

"Great. What makes this guy special?" Bee asked as he sped toward the ramp, many of the overhead lights flickering.

"He's their king, and, yeah, we don't know where to begin countering this thing." Prowl explained. "We'll worry about that when you get here. The rest of the Iacon team has been apprised and should be ready to depart once you arrive."

"What about the rest of the surface evacuation?" Bumblebee protested.

"They're either leaving or they aren't." Prowl grumbled. "Right now, we need to focus more on the fight than the flee. Do you understand?"

Bee hesitated, wanting to do something to ensure those still in Iacon got evacuated, but realized they didn't have time to do everything. "Yes sir."

"Good. Prowl out."

Trepan

He was close, but 'close' was a matter of interpretation. Given the scale of what was being asked, and the fact that nothing like this had ever been done, three to six more years of work wasn't that much. But by Megatron's timeline, it was very, very late. He had arrived to the project thinking Shockwave was almost done…mainly because he had been told, by Shockwave no less, that they were almost done. But despite his absolute brilliance, Shockwave wasn't as familiar with the fine-points of neuro-reconstruction as Trepan. Oh, he could whip something together if need be, but to do it right, to make it perfect, it would take time. But given what they were doing, what was another half decade? Trepan continued studying the two holographic images of brains, the one depicting what the brain in question currently looked like, the other depicting what Shockwave had determined it should look like. And at an aggregate level, Shockwave's approximation was accurate, but when dealing with brain modules, the aggregate level meant little, everything had to be drawn down to the finest detail. Heavy but controlled footfalls echoing through the hall just outside the Fortress Trypticon control room let Trepan know that Shockwave was approaching. That must mean that the matters at the Draconyx Lair had been resolved. Trepan waited for the large purple scientist and warrior to enter. "Greeting's Shockwave." Trepan noted that his fellow Decepticon was carrying a corpse, one fully grayed out, its life having passed at least a day before.

The hulking Shockwave walked over to the table in the center of the room and laid out the inert frame in his arms. "Greeting's Trepan, I bring you an asset to help expedite your work here."

"Is that who I think it is?" Trepan muttered, marveling at the frame that was likely older than any other frame on the planet.

"It is Triptych, the template for our brain module." Shockwave stated.

"It's too bad he's dead. There are so many questions I would ask of him." Trepan mused as he leaned over the body on the table in the mid-sized room. "Oh well, I guess I'll have to save my questions for several years when I can ask Trypticon."

"Several years?" Shockwave asked ominously. "You're still holding to that?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I must." Trepan answered. Were it Megatron, or to a much lesser degree, Soundwave, he would have been frightened. But Shockwave was a fellow scientist, he understood not only that Trepan's timeframe was reasonable and that the mnemosurgeon had only just gotten started with the great beast, but he knew that no one was more eager to see this finished than him.

"That's unfortunate. Please let me know if there's any asset you need to improve the timeframe." Shockwave responded.

"I could use your input on a few matters." Trepan suggested. He probably didn't need Shockwave's help, but it was always good to let colleagues feel appreciated, and ultimately it would be well within the realm of possibility for Shockwave to come up with suggestions that would be beneficial.

"That is acceptable, what can I assist you with?"

Elita One

She walked into the sea of cybertronity, her newfound companions on either side of her and hordes of commoners pushing and shoving all around them trying to protect their position in the multitude of lines leading to shuttles, ground transports, energon-kitchens or the recharging beds laid throughout the hastily made and quickly overwhelmed Petrex refugee camps. Even her own shuttles were swarmed when they landed, the masses hoping they could be used to get them farther south. Elita had been gracious in trying to let them know that the shuttles were to be used for the military effort against the sparkeaters, but the masses weren't having it. She attempted to reason with them, but they continued shouting over her. Her patience was worn thin to begin with, she had just spent the last several hours prior to the launch returning every other member of her house back onto the Pool of Solus and covering each of them with the ceremonial shroud of House Solus. Thirty new shrouds had to be created to fully accommodated the dead members of her house, never before had so many of her name perished at once. It would be years before the last of them fully degraded and rejoined the metallico from whence they came, but they were all laid to rest, and Elita, last living member of House Solus, had no patience for irrational and demanding commoners, nor did the surviving House Solus guards.

Fortunately, just as things were about to turn ugly the reclusive House Maximus intervened. Emir Pious arrived with his own house guards as well as a couple dozen of his Maximal vassals, but it was the presence of his kinsman Fortress that truly got the unruly horde to back away and disperse from the plains serving as one of several landing fields away from the cluster of camps. He was massive, just a bit smaller and slightly less hulking than the Rodion criminal Overlord, and like with Overlord, his body moved with the grace of a much smaller bot. His frame exuded power, and the heated glare in his optics let the commoners know he was ready to spring into violent action. It was merely a matter of moments before they had all vanished.

Elita was now being escorted by Emir Pious and lords Helonix and Fortress, a mixed conglomeration of House Maximus, House Solus and Maximal security forces followed after them at a respectful distance. The commoners parted as they noticed the approaching royals, their optics possessing a wide range of emotions, from admiration, to fear, to relief, to outright hostility and contempt. Elita could not care less. She was there to do her duty to Axiom and Cybertron, and to demand justice. Almost as though sensing her thoughts, Fortress Maximus's voice cut through the loud hum of activity around them. "Elita One, you have my deepest condolences for the horror that has befallen your house. It boils my energon pump that the other houses have entered into a truce with these bastard Decepticons."

"Fortress, it is a necessary evil, and no member of House Maximus will break the peace, distasteful as it is." Pious scolded. "Emir Elita, you have the deepest condolences of all of House Maximus as well as Fortress's. I knew few, but I treasure having known Exponum One and having had the honor of calling him friend."

"Thank you Emir Maximus." Elita replied, catching sight of a handful of unwashed robots marching toward them bearing smirks…and Warrior brands!

She started toward them, but Pious Maximus caught her arm. "Elita One, do not let them goad you!"

"Goad her?" One of the Decepticons, a gray and black twenty-five foot beast of a robot with a rectangular, box-like helmet covering his head, cruelly snickered. "I just wanted to give the pretty lady a shoulder to cry on."

Fortress Maximus charged forward, towering nine feet over the large Decepticon. "I've slain twenty-seven Decepticons over the last thirty hours, what's five more?" He smiled malevolently at the large speaker and then to the other four members of the group, all mid-sized and bearing vastly brighter coloration than their apparent leader.

"Fortress Maximus!" Pious called out. "We will not break the peace!"

Fortress stood his ground, glaring hatefully at the Decepticons for nearly a minute before finally emitting a low growl. "Get the hell out of here or I will kill you all." The group of Decepticons gave him defiant glares, but they turned and left as ordered.

"It is an unfortunate state," Pious muttered as they watched the instigators leave, "but we are in need of them. Even in light of the bit of hope we received today."

"Hope?" Elita asked, but tensed as she noticed another dozen robots pushing through the crowd and approaching them.

"Emir Maximus!" The head of the group, a mid-sized gray robot with maroon shoulders and upper arms, called out. "A word, if you would."

"Of course Ramulus." Pious Maximus smiled at the approaching group. "What can I do for you?"

"My Emir, in light of…the news…the…possibility anyway, I…I" Ramulus paused, uncertain of how to proceed.

"House Maximus has always been aware of where the true loyalty of the Maximals lie, and should this possibility turn out to truly be news, you and your people may choose your destiny." Pious replied in a reassuring manner. "And the lands provided you by House Maximus will remain your lands. Our friendship was given not just to your people, but to your liege lords as well."

"Excuse me, Emir Pious," Elita interrupted, "I apologize, but I will continue on to the command center."

"Of course Elita One." Pious replied, pointing out ahead toward a makeshift facility that was significantly larger than most of the others. "That is it right there. I will join you shortly."

The Maximal Ramulus continued as Elita walked away. "If he's anything like his ancestors, he won't be comfortable being referred to as a liege lord."

Elita pushed through the crowds, her House Solus guards catching up and making sure no harm came to her. She was seconds away from the headquarters when a familiar voice called out. "Elita!" Elita turned to see Torenia Pax running toward her through the crowd. Elita could not control the emotions from flooding out of her, and wept tearlessly as she ran forward and embraced her friend. "Easy Elita, you need to do this, but let's get you into private."

"No," Elita immediately composed herself, "no, I'm fine." She forced a smile.

"You poor thing." Torenia hugged her again but pulled back quickly in a show of decorum. "I heard Exponum died in your arms." Elita nodded, prompting both femmes to look down sadly. "I'm so sorry. I can't imagine such pain." She looked back up at Elita. "But despite this horrific tragedy, House Solus will recover. New protoforms will emerge from your pool, and those protoforms couldn't hope to have a better One. Exponum always knew you would lead your house one day."

"Perhaps, but not like this." Elita grumbled.

"No, my dear sweet Elita, not like this." Torenia replied, raising her hand to gently cup her friend's face. "I almost feel ashamed for feeling joy on a day like this."

Elita stared at the ground. "What could possibly bring you joy today?" The younger femme's gaze lingered on the metal ground for a bit longer before finally raising to meet the stunned optics of Torenia.

"You don't know?" Torenia whispered, a smile spreading slowly over her face. "You haven't heard?"

"Heard? Heard what?" Elita asked. "Pious Maximus said something about hope…"

Torenia reached forward and grasped Elita's hand, pulling her toward the command center. "Elita, no one needs good news right now more than you!"

In moments they were inside the quickly assembled facility, dozens of robots marched around full of purpose, many of them high lords or royals, and many others manned a wide array of equipment spread throughout the expanse. Torenia marched them around the busy individuals, finally stopping behind a large orange, red and yellow robot seated at a control panel with a large screen in front of him. He seemed familiar to Elita, she knew that she had seen him before, but could not quite remember where. He turned his head as he heard them approaching, his helmet possessing a visor that covered but left visible his optics, and left his lower face exposed. He chuckled lightly at seeing Torenia, the expression inviting and almost sharing in the joy Torenia seemed to be feeling. "Another viewing Lady Pax?"

"It's not for me this time." She replied cheerfully, prompting the robot to turn and look upon Elita.

His smile immediately vanished and he bowed his head. "Elita One, I'm so sorry to hear what has befallen your house. The Autobots always respected and admired House Solus; were other houses like those of Pax and Solus, my group would never have needed to exist."

"I thank you, Autobot." Elita smiled at him. "I also have great admiration for your group. I agree with your goals, and as One, I will strive to see them achieved."

"Blaster, please play the footage." Torenia asked politely, but insistently.

"Of course my lady," Blaster turned back around, his smile returning slightly, "any starting point in particular?"

"Quit teasing me young bot!" She grumbled playfully, delivering a light slap to his shoulder. "It's the same starting point as it's been for the last couple of hours!"

The screen came to life, a courtyard, it took Elita a moment to recognize it as the courtyard laid out before the Spear of Paxus. She had been there once years ago while visiting Torenia, but now instead of Pax's and other northerners walking about the beautiful yard, there were hideous creatures, two massive, and attached to the Spear itself was an even more massive form, one battered and missing all of its limbs. She was completely confused as to why Torenia would show her this until it happened. A red and blue blur shot out of the building and began fighting the creatures. "Orion!"

Blaster turned and looked at her at the sound of her exclamation, then turned his gaze to Torenia. "She didn't know?"

"Sweet Primus, no!" Elita spat out, ignoring Blaster, and watched as the creatures all seemed to descend toward Orion.

She felt Torenia's hand squeeze hers reassuringly. "I would not bring you in here to watch him die." Torenia stated, prompting the worried Elita to look to her and see the equally reassuring smile. Her head snapped back to the screen and she continued watching the violence that was occurring…or rather had occurred. When had this occurred?

"Lady Torenia, there you are!" A voice called out from behind them. Torenia turned, but Elita could not take her optics off of the fighting on the screen.

"Yes Roadbuster?" Torenia asked.

"My lady, you asked to be informed when the Stellar Spear was inbound." He stated.

"You've got them on your sensors?" Torenia asked with frantic excitement.

"We had them on our sensors several minutes ago." The deep-voiced Roadbuster replied. "I couldn't find you. I believe they're landing in one of the southwestern fields as we speak."

Elita turned her head to see Torenia's head drop and felt Torenia's hand pull away from hers. She looked down to see the ground cruiser that Torenia had transformed into speed away, through the large facility, weaving through many robots and even bouncing against a few as she sped toward and then out the exit. It finally dawned on Elita what had just happened, and she immediately transformed and followed after her friend.

It was tricky maneuvering through the crowd inside the command center, it was virtually impossible making her way through the throngs outside in vehicle mode while at their knee level. She tried for nearly a minute before transforming back to robot mode and pushing through on foot. She could see the landing field in question a mile and a half ahead, as she got closer she saw a ship with an appearance worthy of the name Stellar Spear; it looked like a smaller, flight-capable version of the Spear of Paxus. A few seconds later she could make out the crowds surrounding it, and the vast, bulbous form of the creature that had been strapped to the Spear of Paxus in the footage. She finally pushed through enough to see Torenia get allowed through by the security forces keeping the crowds back from the ship and the limb-less giant it appeared to have towed there. Torenia ran forward and a moment later she was embracing Roller Pax. Elita finally made it through most of the crowd and could hear much of what they said. "Oh thank Primus you two are alright!" Torenia nearly wept out.

"You sound like there was some doubt as to our success." The cocky Roller shot back, and grinned as he caught Torenia stealing glances up toward the open doorway of the ship. "What? Is there something other than me that has piqued your interest?" Elita pushed through the guards as she watched, and they must have recognized who she was because they let her through.

Torenia slapped his shoulder. "It's been over fourteen years, damn it, where is he?" Elita slowly made her way toward them, looking up at the open doorway as well.

Roller chuckled and jerked his thumb back toward the giant. "He was helping to secure Omega Supreme. Apparently he thinks himself a doctor as well as a cop, a regional governor, a general and the greatest prisoner rescuer of all time."

"Ratchet taught me a few tricks." The voice caused everything within Elita to freeze. It was deep, and kind, and reassuring, and confident, and powerful…it was perfect, and it awakened feelings long buried in her. Elita One's optics watched as Torenia pulled away from Roller and darted out toward Orion Pax, as gorgeous…and battered as she remembered him. Torenia threw herself at him, and he caught her as though she weighed nothing, the two embracing each other tightly. It was whispered, not meant to be heard by any other, but Elita barely made out "Mother."

Elita watched intently as the two embraced tightly, her feet slowly carrying her toward them, passing Roller as she went, until finally she felt it, her spark tingled, and she saw him raise his head, his glowing azure optics locked on to hers, and they silently stared at one another. "Are you going to go to her or not?" Torenia's voice broke the lock they had on one another, and a moment later they were throwing themselves at each other, an embrace, a deep kiss, an action so alien yet so familiar. The world stopped, nothing else existed but the two of them…at least until their bodies shuddered under some sort of mild physical blow. They broke off their kiss and looked over to Roller, the hand he had just slapped against Orion's un-wounded shoulder still clutching the shoulder. "Way to go O, that's the Emir of Axiom you're kissing!" He then looked to Elita and grinned. "And you too Elita, you're kissing the mayor of a heap of garbage."

Orion ignored his brother and peered deeply into Elita's optics. "We heard about House Solus flying in. And…about Exponum. I'm so…" Orion froze as he caught sight of something behind her in the crowd. Elita scrutinized his face, and noted a transition in them from a flash of recognition, rage, deep contemplation, and then what appeared to be one of resolve on some course of action, all of which occurred in the span of less than two seconds. Orion gently but authoritatively directed her to the side and then behind him with his hands on her shoulders and started toward the crowd, and as the confused Elita looked up she saw what had drawn Orion's attention. She had caught footage of Sentinel Prime's death as she flew in to Petrex, and clearly recognized the murderer of the Prime. Megatron stood near the front of the crowd surrounding the make-shift tarmac, dozens of his Decepticons pushed in around him, shouldering their way through the civilians but otherwise seeming to behave themselves. Orion marched straight toward this gladiator turned rebel.

"Officer Pax, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that you'd turn up right after Sentinel Prime's death, but I am nonetheless." The chrome warrior called out with a grin. "I am honestly glad to see you alive, and I hope fourteen years' worth of maturity has made you more receptive to my offer, because it still stands."

"Over seven hundred acts of terrorism murdering tens of thousands of innocents, just to throw the government off your scent!" Orion roared as he drew near the Decepticons, all of whom tensed and several stepped forward to intervene, but Megatron waved them down. "An unprovoked coordination of attacks on high houses and their subjects, murdering tens of thousands more, including those actively trying to increase the rights of commoners!"

Megatron shrugged. "You seem surprised. I'm pretty sure I remember telling you, in a general sense anyway, what I was planning on doing." Megatron gave a slight grin as the irate Orion finally reached him and stopped before him. "Did you think I was joking?"

The hundreds surrounding them watched in nervous anticipation as Orion looked up and glared deeply into the optics of the twenty-four foot tall Decepticon Commander, all around them, civilian and Decepticon alike backing away from the two. Though every optic was glued to the two of them, none of them, not even Megatron, saw the blur of a blue fist that knocked the Decepticon into the air, back several feet, and onto the ground. To his credit, Megatron reacted immediately and was back on his feet sending his own black right fist in a blur, but Orion was expecting that and ducked under, sending both fists forward as he did so landing two distracting punches, one to the abdomen, the other to the nose. Orion immediately came up swiping his right fingers across Megatron's optics and following right away with a left cross to the distracted warrior.

Megatron was sent staggering back but again recovered immediately with a swipe of his own, his right balled fist catching Orion in the chest and sending him back to the ground. Megatron stepped toward the downed foe, but almost impossibly Orion sprang back up, seemingly using only his upper back and shoulders to propel himself off the ground, and drove his helmet crest into the bridge of Megatron's nose. Megatron once again stumbled back, and was sent to the ground again by a blur of a snap kick. Elita had been trying to push through to help, but spectators had lined up in front of her, allowing her to see but not to get to the combatants. She suddenly lunged through as she witnessed an enraged Megatron level the giant black cannon on his arm at Orion. "No!" She yelled as she ran to get between the two fighters, Roller at her side with the same intent.

They barely got in front of Orion when they felt his hands clamp on each of their chests and push them back behind him. Elita stared in horror as Orion, a look of almost victory in his optics, thrust his chest forward toward Megatron and held his hands out to the sides. "Do it!" Orion roared over the gasps and protests from the crowd. "Do it, coward! Show these people your superiority! Show them the might of your expensive weapons, armor and enhancements! Drive home the FACT that your ideology and dogma and propaganda is utterly without merit, that it's nothing but ruthless savagery that makes you worth following!"

"Without merit!" Megatron roared back as he stood, lowering his weapon to point toward the ground. "You stand with the Prime, the royalty, the nobility and a senate that exists solely to enforce their will while making a show of placating us? You deny their corruption and stand with those bastards?" Megatron snarled, but his face immediately made it clear that he realized his error and regretted the accusation.

Orion grinned at his bait being taken. "Some of my last memories of being on Cybertron were of standing before the Prime, before the Senate. But I think I made an adequate job of demonstrating that I did NOT stand with them! You may have missed the broadcast, you were likely in Militus Macht's dungeon for failing to have murdered me at that time, but I opposed the Senate, I opposed the Prime. And someone I treasured paid the ultimate price for it!" Orion snarled. "So if you choose to once again suggest that I am aligned with what Sentinel Prime stood for, I suggest you follow it up with a shot from that cannon, because I will be over there in a flash to knock you on your ass again!"

"Enough!" Prowl charged through and stood between the two brawlers. "Megatron, you promised to keep the pe…"

"I HAVE kept the peace!" Megatron snarled. "It was Orion Pax who attacked me without provocation!"

"You have a truce with this bastard?" Orion asked, though Elita could sense that his surprise was a bit less than genuine.

Prowl turned, looked Orion up and down and then nodded. "Aye, we do. A necessary evil, Orion Pax. And where in the Pit have you been all these years?"

"Hiding from you." Orion snapped back, but then looked down and noted the face of the Common Man on Prowl's chest. "What the hell?"

"Things tend to change over the course of fourteen years." A new voice called out, and the crowd continued to part to finally let Blaster and several other Autobots into the inner circle. He walked over and offered his hand in greeting, which Orion immediately grasped with a broad smile. "Great to have you back, kid."

Prowl looked intently at Megatron. "I think everyone can agree that Orion Pax has been out of the loop regarding the situation here in Petrex, and that you cannot blame him for feeling salty over what you and your band of…Decepticons have done, right?"

Megatron glared at Orion for several moments before a forced smile came over his face. "I suppose so. It's to be expected that Orion would be confused by what the Decepticons have tried to do while he's been in hiding."

"Of course I'm confused." Orion replied. "You've existed for at least fourteen years in some form, but from what I've been told you've addressed no grievances publicly, you now claim to fight against the highborn hierarchy, but you've spent nearly a decade and a half murdering lowborn and blaming a group truly out representing the commoners, and your first action you publicly undertake is to attack any semblance of authority at the moment of the planet's greatest peril." Orion turned and started walking toward the structures in the center of the outer Petrex camp. "Yes Megatron, it's hard not to be confused by what you and your murderers have been doing."

Prowl, Blaster, Elita, Roller and others followed after Orion, but just before clearing the circle Roller turned to Megatron. "Megatron, round two goes to Orion."

Twenty minutes later, what constituted the leadership of the various groups was gathered in a smaller structure adjacent to the main control center. The main control room was still needed for the constant communication and surveillance of other parts of Cybertron, and would have proven too loud and distracting for the discussion that was about to commence. Orion and Megatron sat across from one another at the oval-shaped table, other leaders regarding them carefully, clearly afraid that hostilities could start again between the two. But Megatron bore a genuine grin as he looked upon the red and blue robot, who had Elita at his right and Roller Pax at his left. "It's hard to imagine, but you fight better than you used to. Both your hand to hand combat and your rhetoric seem a bit…dirtier."

Orion half shrugged and gave a half-smile. "Too much at stake to risk losing at either."

"You would have us believe that what happened out there wasn't just you lashing out like a child?" Emir Accumenus Honorum questioned almost laughingly from the center of one side of the oval, seated directly across from Emir Delta Magnus.

"Whether you believe it or not means nothing, Emir Honorum." Megatron replied, his optics still fixed on Orion's. "Everything Orion Pax did and said out there was a calculated move. Wasn't it?"

Orion shrugged. "I needed for two things to happen. I needed for everyone to see through your lies about what your group stands for, and I needed to demonstrate that you could be beaten."

"You didn't beat me." Megatron stated in a way that invited argument.

"No." Orion nodded in agreement. "But I wasn't trying to beat you, only show the people that it could be done. I think I succeeded. I guess I'll know in a few hours after the gossip has had a chance to spread."

"He's not dirtier," Elita stated, glaring at Megatron as her hand laid upon Orion's, "he's savvier. He's no longer the child you tried to murder."

"Enough." Prowl, sitting farther down the table, put an end to the sniping. "We're here for a purpose, and bickering with each other will only ensure that we fail."

"True Prowl," Emir Honorum stated, but was staring heatedly at Orion, "but before we get started, I would know where Orion Pax has been for the last fourteen years."

Orion met his stare and nodded. "I have been off-world. It was not by choice, but it was done…" he sent a side-ways look to Roller, "with my best interests in mind. Or so I was told."

"I too have a question for young Orion Pax." Emir Pious Maximus asked from the other end of the long table. "Is it truly Pax, or are you to be called Orion of House Convoy now?"

"It's Pax!" Roller answered insistently.

Orion looked over at his brother and gave an odd smile, but then looked back at Emir Maximus. "It's Pax."

"The sparkeater king seemed quite sure." The enormous Fortress Maximus, standing behind his emir, stated as he peered intently at Orion.

Orion looked over to him and shrugged. "I've been told I have the look. I suppose it was enough to convince Violen Jiger." A look of confusion came over the young returning expatriate as he shifted his gaze around the table at the interested looks on the faces of the others. "I'm sorry, why is this being given credence? None of you can seriously be considering this as possible, can you? Convoy metallico was removed from existence over twelve million years ago."

"It likely is impossible, Orion," Delta Magnus answered, "but it was pointed out that the surviving members of House Convoy, Big Convoy and Lio-Convoy, disappeared without a trace roughly one million years ago, and the possibility was raised that perhaps one or both of them died and that their frames were on Insula Avalonius at that time or moved to it sometime later,"

"I can definitely see House Onyx murdering them and placing the bodies in a cave on an uninhabited is…"

"That's enough, Fortress!" Pious scolded his younger kinsman for the snarled outburst.

"You're suggesting that the trace metallico in my frame came from the corpse or corpses of one or both of the two surviving Convoys?" Orion asked. "I know it's tradition for many houses to place their dead into the metallico sources that spawned them, and that their elements can go on to future generations, but they're more…an additive to the material. Disintegrated frames can't become viable life-metal on their own."

"We know," Accumenus Honorum stated emphatically, "but scientific fact seems to hold little weight against Maximus sentimentality."

"Hold your tongue, Honorum!" Fortress Maximus snarled, this time Pious was not inclined to chastise him for the outburst.

Emir Accumenus glared at the huge and powerful looking robot and was about to emit a snarl of his own, when Torenia Pax, who had been standing behind Roller and Orion, stepped forward and made her voice heard. "Enough! These insults and threats will cease now!" She stared down the table inviting a challenge, but after several seconds of silence she allowed her stern glare to soften and she continued. "The metallico that partially went into making up Orion's frame did not come from the corpses of Big or Lio Convoy." She smiled. "We have evidence that it was placed there."

"What?" The question was blurted from nearly every mouth, including Orion's.

"Lady Torenia," Roller harshly whispered, "now is not the time for this discussion."

Torenia glared at Roller, a look of disbelief mixed in with the anger. "Emir Pax, I could forgive an oversight given all that's happening, but willfully keeping this from your brother?"

"Yes, my brother!" Roller hissed. "He's a Pax. He's been a Pax since you led him into Tyger Pax, and he'll be a Pax until his dying day, and he will be laid upon our birthing grounds with full honors in hopes his traits continue on." He slowly turned his head toward the other members at the table, and addressed them. "This is an internal matter for House Pax, it concerns none of you."

"If he is a Convoy," Pious Maximus started.

"You'll what?" Roller interrupted. "Demand he serve you as a vassal?"

"The Convoys were NEVER our vassals!" Fortress snapped. "They were friends, equals to us all, though only House Maximus believed such! They were our guests, and we have several hundred Maximals out there wondering if their rightful lord has reappeared."

"I am nobody's lord." Orion stated. "I have no idea what Emir Roller and Lady Torenia are discussing, but it matters not. I am to be judged by my words and deeds. Where the metal that makes me originated from is of no consequence."

"Those of the land, and those of a house,

be born of equal worth.

A mech's value set by words and deeds,

not by the spot of its birth."

Megatron's haunting and somber voice silenced the room as he lightly sang the words well known even outside of Nyon. Orion glared at him, but his angry look was only met with a smile.

"To be the last surviving Convoy," the tall, mysterious Mistress of Flame took that moment of silence to saunter forward from behind Delta Magnus, "that would make you a high lord, the last of an ancient line that our legends as well as the monster king depict as the driving force behind the expulsion of the five-faced demons that killed and enslaved our kind, and are likely the basis for the false religion of the southerners. As Convoy you would be far more than you ever would as an adoptee into an inconsequential polar house."

"Inconsequential?" Torenia snarled at the tall, beautiful femme.

"You would no longer need to continue your affiliation with the Autobots." Megatron commented, glossing over the sudden animosity between Torenia Pax and the fiery priestess, and maintaining his smug smile at Orion. "As Lord Convoy, your every desire would be granted. The commoners would love you, north and south, the lowborn have always romanticized House Convoy. As the last of your kind, that kind being a Convoy, you'd be treated as a royal by the royals. Should it all be true, it would be most fortuitous for you that it all came to light prior to getting the face of the Common Man branded into you."

Orion stared evenly at Megatron for a moment before replying. "My convictions are my convictions because I believe them to be true, not because they are advantageous to me." His optics narrowed. "I am NOT a Decepticon."

Megatron lost his smile and a dangerous look came over his face. "You suggest I am less than sincere in my beliefs?"

Orion displayed a slight grin. "Would you hold with your current ideals were you born a weakling? A simpleton?"

"I wouldn't have been able to come up with my ideals were I born a simpleton." Megatron sneered. "And were I weak, I'd have honed some form of usefulness. And should I have failed at that, then so be it, I'd have been forced to acknowledge my inferiority and accepted whatever justice my betters…my true betters, chose for me."

"I don't believe you." Orion stated. "Your own braggadocio makes you out to be the greatest deceiver on the planet, and I can't for a moment imagine you offering yourself up for another's greater good." Orion then looked to the other leaders at the table. "I apologize for continuing to keep us off course. I believe we should discuss our defense against the sparkeaters."

"Orion Pax is right." Delta Magnus took charge, but seemed to be distracted a bit as he glanced up to see the Mistress of Flame staring intently at Orion. Elita failed to notice Delta Magnus's slight faltering as she too was a little put off by the priestess's attention on the newly returned Pax. "It is essential that we devise a strategy to fight these creatures."

"I think our course is clear." Emir Honorum cut in. "We intercept them on their way to Iacon, likely at Peptex, our soldiers cut them open and then blast their exposed sparks."

"Ha!" Megatron emitted. "You think that because you saw Orion Pax kills some sparkeaters, that your soldiers will be capable of doing the same?" He shook his head. "You're a fool, Emir Honorum, and those that follow you are doomed. The footage from Tyger Pax was extremely useful, but it is not to be seen as a 'how-to' for the common foot soldier. I can kill sparkeaters, Shockwave can as well, Delta Magnus, Overlord, Grimlock, possibly Ultra Magnus, and from what I hear from the few Decepticons that survived the assault on Protihex, Fortress Maximus likely can as well. And beyond them, maybe a handful more warriors on the planet. But a dozen lesser soldiers, even marginally lesser, going at a single sparkeater will just wind up as food.

"He's right." Delta Magnus agreed. "Ultra Magnus and I have spent some time in the training ring with Orion, and he easily held his own against the two of us."

"He didn't hold his own," Ultra Magnus chimed in, "he flat out beat me."

"It appears I should remove Ultra Magnus from my list of sparkeater-killers." Megatron snidely added.

"It did take a great deal of force to cut them open." Orion added. "With all due humility, I am quite strong, and quite fast as well, and after nine years of melee warfare against enemies with multiple redundancies built into their frames making them very difficult to kill, I'm quite battle-hardened. And even with my physical advantages, battlefield sharpness, and the aid and weaponry of Emir Pax and the Tyger Pax defenses, it took everything we had not to get killed. So yes, we will need to devise something more elaborate that just cut and shoot." He looked them all over. "But I don't disagree with Emir Honorum about intercepting them at Peptex. Guardian Spaceport has fallen, but the reports we have are that it was only a single small aerial freight hauler that delivered the sparkeaters, and that their numbers in Cybertropolis are tiny…to the point where we've received no reports of them outside the spaceport. So barring that small number likely sent solely to take command of the planet's primary spaceport and possibly the Capital Spires, the bulk of their army is still north of the Mithril Sea. Emir Pax did a good job of evacuating most of House Pax's personnel and assets, and while there are other aerial transports in and around Polarus, they are few, small, and for the most part quite modest. But should the sparkeater army reach Iacon, they'd find more than enough transport methods to get them quickly south of the sea, and once done there are no more natural barriers to confine them. As far as I know there haven't been any ships leaving Guardian Spaceport since it fell, my guess is that's due primarily to a lack of pilots to bring the ships that are there back to Polarus or Taenarus, well, just Polarus I guess, there isn't enough space to put multiple ships in front of what's left of the Tartarun Gates. But whatever the case, we also need to send a force to reclaim Guardian Spaceport, or at least take or destroy every ship there so that they can't use them once they get their pilot shortage sorted out." Elita gently squeezed Orion's hand and smiled at him, causing a nervous look to come over him. "I did not intend to speak out of turn, nor do I mean to presume anything. I will be silent as the proper authorities discuss matters and only answer questions asked of me or to provide any insight into our enemies that I may have observed at Tyger Pax." 

"Do not apologize, Orion Pax." Megatron replied in an almost scolding manner. "Even prior to your exchange with this Violen Jiger and his forces, your voice should carry far more weight than those of anyone else at this table. You, Shockwave, Soundwave, Delta Magnus, Ultra Magnus, Fortress Maximus, Roller Pax and Elita One are the only royals to have shown themselves to be of any worth in battle, and Elita One's inclusion is based solely on the magical armor in her possession."

"Am I to understand that you stole that cannon on your arm from a common armory?" Elita hissed back.

"Touché." Megatron chuckled. "But back to my point, Orion, should you have something to say, do not hesitate to do so. Your birth, whether low or high, means nothing in the coming war, or ever now that I've put an end to the hierarchal status quo. Do not look for permission from the likes of Accumenus Honorum, Dominus Ambus or Pious Maximus before adding your valuable contributions."

"Enough!" Delta Magnus growled. "This meeting has been overrun by not-so-passive aggressiveness, and it ends now! Orion, you have more than proven yourself worthy of contributing, and I completely agree with your assessment. What we need to do first and foremost is to devise a chain of command, unite our various forces into a single army with a single goal."

Megatron chuckled, prompting all to look at him. He provided a shrug and rolling of his optics along with a sardonic grin. "Decepticons, government forces, Autobots, surviving high house guards, leaderless southerners, northerners and everything in between all bowing before Delta Magnus, or Delta Prime, or whatever your aspirations may be?" Megatron shook his head. "I agreed to cooperation, not assimilation. You come up with plans involving coordination, or joint strikes, or any other form where we rely upon one another to destroy the common enemy, absolutely. I would even be willing to place some Decepticon warriors temporarily under the command of competent non-Decepticon officers should the need arise. But we will not be joining you. Your dominion over me and my followers has come to an end."

"We will not defeat these creatures with various fractured forces!" Delta grumbled back. "I'm not suggesting bent knees, but a unified front is essential."

"My lords?" A small predominantly blue robot entered the structure. "I apologize for interrupting…" He stopped talking as Soundwave pushed past him and walked right up to the table, his optics on Megatron the entire time.

"Lord Megatron, we have received word from Tyger Pax. Violen Jiger requests a parlay with our leaders." Soundwave stated to his leader, ignoring everyone else in the room.

"Good, I would like to get the full measure of this demon king." Megatron replied with a grin. "Though I don't think us leaders would be willing to go to Polarus without our armies at our backs."

"He claims to have the means to travel to a neutral area." The smaller blue robot chimed in as he took a step further into the large room.

"Thank you Eject." Emir Honorum said, reasserting himself at the table. "I have no doubt this beast has some sort of treachery in mind."

"There are many islands on the Mithril Sea." Delta Magnus added. "It would be impossible for him to get his monsters close to us there without our knowing it."

"He has already stated where this neutral meeting place is to be, and yes, it is an island in the Mithril Sea." Soundwave replied, turning his gaze to Orion Pax. "He wishes to meet at Insula Avalonius."

Polar Claw

"You do understand what I just told you, right?" The arrogant blue and yellow homeworlder asked condescendingly, as though stunned that Polar Claw's reaction to his statement wasn't to instantly jump up, gather the troops and follow this guy into the jaws of death…literally.

"I understand completely." Polar Claw politely but firmly replied to this Nightbeat. They were on the bridge of the long-downed Axalon, the starhopper that Nightbeat had arrived to Helios-3…or Earth as the natives referred to it, was parked out on the polar ice a half mile away. "But what do you expect from us. Our numbers are a few dozen. Our ship is inoperable, our knowledge of Cybertron is a million years out of date and our knowledge of sparkeaters is damn near nothing."

"I don't expect anything from you and your Maximals!" Nightbeat snapped. "Nothing beyond telling me where to find the greatest warship, leader and warriors Cybertron ever produced!"

Polar Claw looked Nightbeat up and down. "I have no idea of what you're talking about."

"Cut the shit, Polar Claw!" Nightbeat growled. "The Manifest is here, on this planet! You've been guarding it for over a million years! You've fought wars over it for the last quarter of those years!" Polar Claw glanced over to Rattrap standing near the entrance of the bridge between Bonecrusher and Cybershark, who just shrugged apologetically in return. "You want to remove or destroy the Ferrotaxis, fine! You want to remove Jhiaxus from the ship and keep him in your custody should he still be alive, then fine! I don't care! I have no interest in the galactic ambitions Guardian Prime may or may not have had. All I'm interested in is the ability to destroy sparkeaters that ship has. The hope and inspiration the population of Cybertron will be filled with, whether deserved or not, by the return of Guardian Prime. Galvatron, Cyclonus, their army! They may be the only thing that can save our home world, and you're going to let us all die because you were told that Guardian Prime's astounding and unequalled contributions were all offset because he was allegedly getting a bit too ambitious in his later years!"

"We have orders." Polar Claw growled back.

"By a dead house following a former Prime who in all likelihood orchestrated all this just to become Prime again!" Nightbeat snapped. "None of whom could have imagined the sparkeaters re-emerging in the midst of some sort of southern commoner uprising powerful enough to kill the sitting Prime!"

"You know nothing." Polar Claw replied.

"I'm right, Primus damn it all!" Nightbeat yelled. "Tell me I'm wrong, I slagging dare you!"

Polar Claw stared silently at the homeworlder for nearly a minute before looking past him toward the entrance of the bridge at his three soldiers standing there. "Bonecrusher, Cybershark, take Nightbeat into custody and place him in the brig."

"You're dooming your world." Nightbeat hissed.

"I'm cooling you down, and giving me time to think this through." Polar Claw angrily explained. "Though frankly, given all that the home world has done, this may just be their rightful comeuppance."

"You can't possibly believe that!" Nightbeat protested as the hands of Bonecrusher and Cybershark clamped onto his upper arms and started dragging him away. "Even if you are that myopic, there are other Maximals still on Cybertron!"

Polar Claw looked away as the prisoner was led off the bridge, leaving him alone with Rattrap. The imposing Maximal knew that it was only going to be a second or two before the little twerp chimed in. "You know he's right." One second, not two.

The white and red robot turned his head and glared at the much smaller Maximal. "You suggest we simply release them? Ignore our vows to Big Convoy? Unleash the Ferrotaxis on the universe?"

"Destroy it, like Nighbeat said." Rattrap replied.

"They'll just make a new one!" Polar Claw roared. "Even if we make sure Jhiaxus is dead, they have enough of his notes to piece together another one."

"Chances are they're all dead, even Guardian Prime and Galvatron." Rattrap muttered. "We go in, do a sweep, verify they're dead…one way or another, and give Nightbeat the ship. The ship alone can wipe out cities, it should have no problem mopping up a few thousand spark-suckers. And hell, it's plenty big to finally get us all of this mud-ball. We get Nightbeat to keep his mouth shut, and as we'll be returning heroes, nobody'll bother to accuse us of any wrongdoing."

"I…I cannot kill those in stasis." Polar Claw grumbled quietly. "Either by my hand or through hands under my command. Nor can I wake them and give them a chance to defend themselves. It would be an option were it anyone else, but I cannot hope to defeat Guardian Prime or Galvatron. Even Cyclonus would likely be more than I could handle. And the stakes are too high to allow a possibility of them getting free."

"Ya' need to shelve that honor of yours." Rattrap stated. "You can't acknowledge the stakes, and then let your honor hold you back from what needs to be done."

Polar Claw thought silently for a few moments before shaking his head. "No, that's just it." He looked intently into Rattrap's optics. "Nothing needs to be done."

Orion Pax

"Black coral?" Orion whispered as he stood at the mouth of the cave looking into the darkness.

Torenia, Roller and Elita were gathered behind him, Elita reaching forward to grasp his right hand with hers. Torenia's voice gently rolled out. "The scientific nomenclature is…" 

"Corallium Furvus, yes, Roller whispered it at Tyger Pax." Orion interrupted as he continued gazing into the darkness within. "I've heard of it, how it used to be used to fashion urns or casks to hold sentio metallico, but twelve million years?" Orion muttered, getting them back on track. "Black coral's preservative properties aren't anywhere near that potent."

"I know, buddy." Roller said as he walked past the others and entered the cave, shining a light from his frame to illuminate the cavern, but then focusing it on the ground. He leaned over and began brushing away dirt, finally revealing a piece of the black coral jutting out of the ground. "I tested a piece I broke off of this one. It dated to over twelve million years since being removed from the sea, and it was definitely fashioned into a shape, it was definitely not some natural bit of coral brought up here by some animal, something intelligent fished it from the sea, shaped it, and put it here." Roller shut off his lights and walked out of the cave, stopping in front of Orion and peering up into his optics. "Whatever you are, wherever you came from, it changes nothing. I know what I said earlier, but if you're a Convoy, and you want to take the name, then do so. But we're still brothers, we'll always be brothers, no matter what you call yourself."

Orion smiled and placed his hand on Roller's shoulder. "Of course, that will never change. Nor will my name. I am and always will be Orion Pax."

"Well hold one there…" Roller grinned, "I'd be OK with you changing it to Orion Prime at some point."

"Ha!" Orion let out a genuine laugh and pushed his brother away playfully. "That's a big step up from mayor of a garbage heap. That's more a next-step for an emir…" he looked to Elita and grinned, "or a One."

"Not a chance." Elita grinned as she squeezed Orion's hand, but they all looked up as a shadow fell on them. The skies over the island had been abuzz with the jet modes of two dozen flying Cybertronians, all but three of them Decepticons. It seemed Megatron had spent a fair bit of time, energy and expense finding, recruiting and altering those with shell modes that would be flight compatible with the right alterations. The fliers were there to monitor for the arrival of the sparkeater king or any treachery that he may have in store. The flier descending upon them now was a dark blue jet transforming into a sleek robot nearly identical in shape to Starcream. Orion noticed Elita wince, recognizing the similarity to the orchestrator of her House's demise was beyond unsettling to her. "Who the hell are you and what do you want?" She snarled at the flier as he landed gracefully on the rock, dirt and metal ground.

"I am Thundercracker of Centurion, and Lord Megatron send me to retrieve you all." The blue robot stated indifferently. "Three large insect-like creatures were detected flying at a high rate of speed toward the island."

"I thought he was to come alone." Torenia stated.

Orion looked to his companions. He wanted them off, but as emirs, Elita and Roller were expected to be there. "Roller, please arrange to have Lady Torenia returned to Petrex."

"Absolutely not!" Torenia growled back. "I came with you three, I will be leaving with you three."

"Is there any sign of anything coming here beyond these three bugs?" Elita asked, her tone less threatening than before.

"No, but we will remain vigilant and alert you should that change." Thundercracker stated. He turned to take off and leave, but paused and shifted his head back slightly in their direction. "I've overheard some Autobots mention that Exponum One provided them aid."

"It's true." Elita replied. "We had to do it quietly as they were an outlaw group, but Exponum and I funneled resources and information to them when we could. Why?"

Thundercracker looked her over a bit, something resembling uncertainty in his face for just a moment. "They are expecting you on the beach." With that he leapt to the sky, transformed and shot away.

The four robots made their way down the mountain, through the jungles, and were soon approaching the beach that Torenia and Elita had first set foot on more than fifteen years before after their ship went down. The crowd of Cybertronian leaders stood on the beach, looking out over the ocean facing the northwest expectantly looking for the three forms they'd been informed of to arrive. Orion sent a mental command to the compartment hastily built for him by a pair of smiths back in Petrex while they waited for their transports to Avalonius to be arranged, and at feeling it open reached back and took hold of his collapsed ion blaster, snapping it into shape as he pulled it forward to the front of his body. "Lady Torenia, I must insist that you stay back, off of the beach, as far from…"

"You do as I say, Orion Pax, NOT the other way around!" Torenia insisted. "And that will be the case even when you truly do become Orion Prime." She whispered playfully as they drew near the assembled Cybertronians, her comment too low to be heard by anyone, but the Mistress of Flame turned and peered intently at them the moment it left her mouth, as though she knew exactly what was said.

The four joined the rest of the group, and turned their gaze to the horizon like the others, finally catching sight of three tiny pinpricks in the distance. But as the seconds passed the shapes grew larger, until finally they could make them out clearly enough to take in the terrifying features of three insectoids, each the size of a very large Cybertronian, each with dark blue/gray shells and monstrous heads lined with horns and teeth. The crowd tensed collectively as the beasts reached the beach and converged into one giant and familiar form. Violen Jiger stood tall in the sand, and pulled out a long cloak that was the color his bestial shells were and wrapped it around his shoulders, attaching the ends to make a cape that went down almost to the ground. He provided the group a hideous smile. "I may have started life as a tribe-less Pentiathan spawn, but I do enjoy my finery at times."

"Yes, you look quite regal." Roller stated sarcastically.

"So nice to see you again, Emir Pax." The massive enemy said.

"Violen Jiger, I am Delta Magnus, Emir of the Tagan Heights, and the agreed upon foreman of the leaders of Cybertron." Delta called out waving his arm toward a large table with many chairs arranged around it, the chairs ranging in size to accommodate the smaller than average all the way up to the massive king of the sparkeaters. "We have a table and chairs arranged for this discussion. While we all have our doubts, each one of us genuinely hopes to come to some sort of mutually agreeable accord here today."

Violen Jiger smiled and nodded. "That is excellent to hear." The massive creature made his way toward the largest chair at the table, and the rest of the group took their places at the table as well. Just as the last seat was filled Violen Jiger continued. "My spark's desire is to unleash myself and my minions upon Cybertron, conquering all and devouring most, but recognizing the need to ration what's consumed and allowing your population to replenish itself. You all wish for me and my army to cease to exist, or to at least return from whence we came and never bother you again. You cannot simply sit back and allow me to accomplish my goal, and I have no intention of allowing what you would have happen come to pass. So I've conceived of a compromise that I feel to be acceptable to all sitting here."

Accumenus Honorum smiled broadly. "That is wonderful to hear. We should have known that the legends of our forebears had depicted you unfairly. You truly seem reasonable and fair-minded."

"Let's hear the compromise." Prowl stated, almost cutting Emir Honorum off.

Violen Jiger leaned forward and seemed to stare them all down with all six of his demonic optics. "You will all remain in your positions of power. You will pay homage to me and do as I say, but otherwise you will rule your lands or groups or whatever as you do now. I will even allow each of you to select one hundred individuals to remain unmolested by myself, my sparkeaters, my demons and my thralls, and another thousand who are not to be killed. The land and possessions of these one thousand will be fair game to my thralls; the demons and sparkeaters care nothing for land or possessions, but their lives will be protected. But all others on the planet not on these lists will be fair game, and the hunts will not be interfered with. I will even allow you one offspring per pulse at each of your spawning grounds." The monstrous central visage of the creature settled on Orion and smiled. "For you Lord Convoy, I will allow you to choose a hot spot as your own. I chose this island for our meeting to see if it would suffice as a hot spot for your future generations, but even my senses can't detect more than the most minimal of trace elements of metallico on this rock beyond all of you and the other living Cybertronians you brought with you. So I will allow you to choose any site you wish and lay claim to one protoform per pulse from that location." He looked away from Orion and scanned the rest of them. "And that's it. I suppose there may be details to iron out, but I don't see anything that could pose a problem should you choose to accept my generous offer."

"It is most gracious, your grace," Accumenus offered with a slightly bowed head, "but please allow us to confer amongst ourselves."

Violen Jiger smiled and started to offer a nod, but was stopped by "No!" All optics turned to Orion, who was glaring down at Emir Honorum. "Are you insane? You would offer up over ninety-nine percent of our population to cybervores? You call that a fair and reasonable compromise? I do not speak for House Honorum, I do not speak for anyone by myself, but I will not be accepting that offer."

"Nor will I." Megatron stated calmly but authoritatively. "Cybertron will have a master, but that master will not be you."

"House Magnus and all of the Tagan Heights rejects your offer as well." Delta Magnus asserted.

"As does House Pax!" Roller followed.

"Your offer is rejected, Violen Jiger." Elita One announced. "We take our stewardship of the people seriously, and we will not be offering them up to you."

"Not a single spark." Orion stated.

Violen Jiger smiled and nodded. "So be it. I'm not entirely surprised. After my run in with Emir Pax and Lord Convoy, I knew there were those of you with courage. I had just hoped there were more of you with sense."

"Sorry to disappoint you, asshole." Fortress Maximus stated with a grin on his face.

Violen Jiger stood from his chair and nodded to them all. "Very well then, at least I know that I tried. What happens now is entirely due to you and your intransigence."

"And what is to happen now?" Delta Magnus asked as he too stood.

"I return to Tyger Pax." The monstrous giant announced. "Then tomorrow I lead my army to Iacon and decimate what's left there. I'm assuming the city will be evacuated for the most part…" Violen Jiger paused and looked up, seeing a gray, red and blue jet drop down, transform, and land on the beach. Starscream nervously walked toward the group, specifically toward Megatron. Everyone noted the strange way the demon king was studying Starscream, but couldn't fathom why. "What is your name?"

Starscream stared at him in terror, then looked to Megatron, who shrugged and nodded. Starscream looked back at the giant. "Starscream…of House Nexus."

Violen Jiger cocked an optic-brow and inhaled deeply. "Another adoption I assume. Which of these leaders do you fight for Starscream?"

"I am a Decepticon." Starscream replied nervously, nodding toward Megatron.

Violen Jiger nodded and smiled. "I will see you again, Starscream of the Decepticons." The huge creature then turned toward the water, ripped off his cape and made to separate, but a voice calling out stopped him.

"Violen Jiger!" The giant turned and gave a look of annoyance at Orion's voice. "My axe, is it still embedded in the Spear of Paxus?"

Violen Jiger chuckled, not bothering to turn around as he answered. "Yes. It's a nice axe, would you like me to send it to you?"

"No." Orion stated. "Leave it there. I'll retrieve it myself after we've taken back Tyger Pax." With that Orion turned and started marching back toward the clearing that they had landed their transports in. He heard Violen Jiger chuckle before the sounds he assumed to be his transformation into the three insects. This parlay had been a waste of time, as Orion knew it would be, and they had a lot of preparations to make if they were going to defeat these creature on the morrow.


	18. Chapter 18

Grimlock

The shuttle was crowded, not dangerously so, there was enough space to allow a wide berth for the table that he, Slag and Snarl were sitting at, but it was undoubtedly packed tighter than the nobles who used to own it ever had it. Not that they cared how this band of Autobot outcasts were treating their craft; they weren't in a position to care about anything anymore. House Karkas was a lower house of Nyon, but apparently not beneath the attention of the Decepticons, who swept through the estate and slaughtered every Karkas, guard and servant on the premises in their recent purge of the highborn. Swoop was a fair tracker, good enough so that when he told Grimlock that nobody had gotten away, Grimlock believed him. As callous as it was, this was good news for Grimlock; Autobots weren't thieves, at least that was one of the many rules the outlaw group had been hammering him with over the last nine years, and it was one of the few that he tried to abide by. But if all the Karkas's were dead, then it really wasn't theft. He did consider the wealth of the highborn to be ill-gotten and undeserved, but the Autobots were trying to make a point, and stealing stuff would kind of negate that point, or so they claimed. Of course, it all seemed pointless over the last fourteen years as the planet considered them to be indiscriminate, murdering terrorists, but in light of Megatron going public with his band of thugs and it becoming apparent that they were the true terrorists, the Autobots' innocence was slowly being accepted by much of the planet, so maybe now, in light of the slowly receding hatred, the Autobots' good citizens campaign might amount to more than a hill of shit, though Grimlock still doubted that very much. The Autobots would always be hated and disregarded by the powers that be, they just currently happened to be less a threat to them than the Decepticons.

Grimlock leaned back in the undersized chair bolted to the floor in front of the undersized table holding three engex bottles that they had taken from the Karkas's supply room, and raised one of the bottles to an intake slat on his lower face, sucking the tainted fuel into his frame. It was the strongest drink the murdered nobles had, but it did little more than tickle the gladiator's throat. The gray and yellow warrior slammed the bottle back down on the table and listened to the final verse of the bawdy tune the drunken bestial Autobots under his command were belting out, swaying with their own found engex bottles in their hands.

"So the fowl will strut,

And the beast will rut,

But I'll always take a mingling femme!

By Hand, I'll always take a mingling femme!"

"Morons." Grimlock grumbled across the table to Slag and Snarl, the other two in better spirits than their leader. "We're bigger, we're immortal, and billions of things that kill organics are nothing to us, yet they sing a song implying the main reason it's better to be a mechanical is that spark-mingling is more fun than organic mating."

"How would they even know it's more fun?" Snarl asked, intentionally avoiding Grimlock's point and making a valid conversation out of the insult.

Slag chuckled. "Singers are deviants, my guess is that one transformed into some male beast, his conjux transformed into a female of the species, and put the two methods to the test. Makes sense, it's a Nyonian song, whoever made it up was probably a beast."

"I don't think it's an accurate test." Snarl continued, no doubt aware that the discussion was annoying Grimlock but continuing anyway because he found it amusing to do so. Grimlock would have to find a pretext for beating his ass sometime soon. "Sensory receptors of metallico and nerve endings of flesh work differently, especially on the erogenous zones of fleshies."

"It creeps me out that you've put that much thought into this." Slag grumbled. "And whether it's accurate or not means nothing, degenerate singers would do it for the giggles if nothing else."

"Would you two shut the hell up?" Grimlock snarled. "I can't believe you morons are talking about this."

"What, spark mingling, or animal mating?" Snarl egged him on with a grin.

"Grimlock's not into femmes I guess." Slag was blunter with the insults.

"I'm attracted to femmes like most, and the idea of mingling…yeah, it's appealing." Grimlock grumbled as he snatched the bottle back and took another pull from it. "But it's fighting I love, and getting into fights is easy, getting a femme to open her chest is hard. So you idiots can waste your time doing what's appealing but impossible while I'm out there doing what I love."

"If you love fighting so slaggin' much," Slag grumbled, "why'd you get us kicked out of the circuit?"

"You slaggin' morons did that!" Grimlock snapped. "I still can't believe you bought into Soundwave's bullshit and came charging in, as if I'd ever need you pussies to save me."

"Even Swoop bought into it, and he's smart." Sludge, who had wandered through the eleven other Autobot beast-bots in the cargo hold of the freighter to be closer to Grimlock, Slag and Snarl, chimed in.

"Just because Swoop isn't as dumb as you three doesn't make him smart!" Grimlock growled back, slamming the bottle back down on the table, this time hard enough to shatter it, sending the remaining fifth of the contents spilling over the round table-top and causing most Autobots in the shuttle to look his way.

"OK, fine, but getting us on the Autobot shit-detail list was more than just us!" Slag shot back.

"We're Nyonians, they stuck us in Nyon, what's the slaggin' problem?" Grimlock growled defensively, fully aware that they had been isolated from the bulk of the Autobot forces since shortly after hooking up with them, and the primary reason for that being his inability to deal with others.

"We're not in Simfur, or Gygax, or anything resembling civilization, no, we're stationed in the slaggin' Toraxxis Plains." Slag growled back. "And they stuck us with this collection of miscreants, head-cases and half-asses!" The former gladiator nearly yelled, causing the rest of the robots in the cargo section of the craft to go silent and glare at him. "All because you have to be an asshole all the time to everyone!"

"Are you kidding me?" Grimlock was stunned. "The only one on the planet unfit to refer to me as an asshole is you!"

"Oh, I know that!" Slag snapped back. "I'm a huge asshole to everyone all the time too, a bigger one than you, but I'm not the leader! I'm an asshole, they reprimand me, or throw me in the brig, or whatever. But when you're an asshole, we all get stuck in the Toraxxis Plains with a shit crew!"

"Hey!" Repugnus, a large red, orange and gray brute called out. "Watch who you're calling a shit crew!"

"I'm calling you all a shit crew. I've watched you being a shit crew for years now, which justifies me calling you a shit crew." Slag replied challengingly, a grin spreading over his face. Grimlock had faced off against both of them, both in the pits and in personal brawls, and while he knew Slag would win, the horned dumbass wouldn't be walking away from it unscathed.

Grimlock stood, determined to quell this confrontation, but Swoop's voice came through the intercom. "Hey boys, we're being hailed. Decepticons telling us to put down."

"We're still in the Toraxxis Plains, right?" Grimlock asked, not sure why the 'Cons would be interested in them, but then realized that they were flying a craft that belonged to a clan on the Decepticon hit list. But that left the question of what the Decepticons were doing in the boneyards of Nyon. "Hold on, I'm coming to the cockpit." A moment later the hulking Grimlock was squeezing himself through the small door and into the co-pilot's seat. The room and chairs were even a bit tight for the smaller Swoop, but both made due. "What the hell are these guys doing in the boneyards?"

"They didn't bother to explain that to me, just barked an order to identify ourselves and put down in an area sixty miles ahead." Swoop replied.

"What'd you tell them?" Grimlock asked, noting through the windshield the approaching squadron of Decepticon fliers heading out to escort them.

"Just that we're Autobots." Swoop replied. "Look boss, normally I'd be up for a fight, but we're in a bucket, those fliers look like they know what they're doing, and everything we've heard about the Decepticons suggests that they own the skies, so let's do what they say until we're on the ground. We have a chance there, but up here, we're cooked."

"Such inspiring bravery from the team flier." Grimlock grumbled.

"Yes, THE team flier. As in the only one." Swoop replied. "And they have thrusters, I flap. Good for domed arenas, but in an open sky, the jets have the overwhelming advantage over the bird."

"Whatever, just put us down and prepare for a fight." Grimlock replied, studying the terrain closely, scrutinizing the general area that they were being instructed to put down. There were mountains in the distance, but too far to offer any cover. No vegetation or other objects beyond sporadic boulders that were too small to be of any use for effective protection in a firefight. He was finally able to make out a cover designed to look like the terrain below it, a very good camouflage masking some structure, one covering a few hundred yards squared. The Autobots would be outnumbered, out-gunned, and out-positioned the moment they set down, and despite his bravado, Grimlock knew the odds against them were likely too great. As they drew near the landing spot and the camouflaged structure not far from it, he saw a sight that made the odds against them significantly worse. "Shockwave."

"Oh, I remember that guy." Swoop stated as he took in the landing zone. "Let's hope you two play nicer than you did last time."

"Me too, looks like he's been enhanced since our previous meeting, a lot bulkier." Grimlock replied. "I'm sure I can still take him hand to hand, but he's probably nearly at my level in terms of strength now, and his firepower is like nothing I've ever seen…or felt."

"That's right, he shot you in the back, didn't he?" Swoop muttered, studying the purple royal waiting for them on the ground. "And from what I hear he and Soundwave apparently murdered their own house. Not sure we should be trusting this guy."

"No choice at this point." Grimlock stated. "If he wants this ship down, he has enough firepower on his person to take it down, not to mention the squad of flying shitbags you're so afraid of. We put down, if he pulls anything at that point, we'll react accordingly."

"Meaning you'll kill hi…"

"Meaning I'll kill him, yes." Grimlock interrupted in impatient annoyance.

"Might be tougher than you think," Swoop commented as he started lowering to the ground, "Razorclaw's and Hun-Grrr's tribes are with him, along with those green and purple…"

"Yeah, I see 'em." Grimlock grumbled. "Just put us down. I'll make it clear that despite the numbers, and the fact that they've got a few elite warriors in their mix, most of them will be dying should they pull anything." A moment later they were on the ground and Grimlock was barreling his way out of the cockpit and toward the door. "Slag, Snarl, Sludge, with me. The rest of you stay put, but be ready to come charging out weapons blazing." Grimlock lead his squad sans Swoop down the steps and onto the dry, rock and ore covered ground. Shockwave merely stood his ground, ten bestial robots and six green and purple robots with construction vehicle parts arrived and stood behind the cycloptic Decepticon. "Been a long time, Shockwave, looks like you added some bulk along with that Warrior's face on your chest."

Shockwave stared at the newcomers for a moment before replying. "Megatron had been a bit vague in how to deal with non-noble, non-government affiliated potential combatants."

"We're called Autobots." Snarl responded.

"So your pilot claimed." Shockwave replied. "I'd heard that your gladiatorial squad had joined them, though reports of your standing with them have varied."

"You just need to know we're Autobots." Grimlock grumbled. "And that we've got a score to settle with you for the carnage you've caused in our name over the last fourteen years. Not to mention my personal score to settle regarding the bullshit that went down in my fight against Megatron. But we're willing to overlook that for now."

"Personal score; against me?" Shockwave asked. "I took no part in anything that transpired in the arena that night, and it was I that was left critically wounded in our confrontation afterward. If anything, I should be the one with a score to settle, were I petty enough to consider such things."

Grimlock, still more than a dozen yards away from the Decepticon, stepped forward and pointed. "You attacked me, slag-face! Your attempt to kill me from behind not working out in your favor isn't something you get to hold a vendetta over. You start a fight and lose, guess what, you're still the asshole that started the fight. Me winning doesn't make me the asshole."

"Valid point, but irrelevant as I've already stated that I don't hold grudges." Shockwave replied. "If anything, I suppose I should be grateful. My failure to subdue your team is what prompted me to realize the value in physical abilities and enhance my frame."

"Let me guess," Grimlock grumbled, "this is where you tell me that the outcome of any fight we have now would be very different."

"No, I was not going to say that." Shockwave replied. "My goal is not to instigate a fight with you, something that I would assume would cause you great relief given how hopelessly outgunned you are. No, a situation has arisen to the northwest that has taken precedence over our prior objectives and prompted us to find common ground with our enemies. Neither you nor the other Autobots qualify as our enemies, at worst you would be seen as a potential nuisance, and your northern affiliates have already entered into an alliance with the Decepticons, so instead of antagonistic remarks, perhaps we should make arrangements to possibly consolidate resources and transport our troops to Petrex in the most efficient manner possible."

Grimlock sensed Snarl stepping forward to address the purple Decepticon. "So we're not going to die right now? Good." Grimlock's groan was barely audible, he'd have to give Snarl a solid kick to the skid plate later. He groaned again as he sensed Slag stepping forward as well.

"What are you guys doing here anyway?" The horned gladiator pressed, his question creating an uncomfortable stir amongst the Decepticons. "There's nothing out here but hundreds of miles of rock and ore in every direction."

"That's not your concern, Autobot." Shockwave replied before turning to the green and purple robot with a wide shovel mounted on his back. "See to the arrangements." The robot nodded and turned, his team following after him back toward a previously unnoticed cave mouth that led into the ground. Shockwave turned back to Grimlock. "We can refuel the House Karkas craft that you've taken possession of."

"We topped off before leaving the Karkas estate. There was plenty of fuel and other swag still there, you guys need to work on your pillaging." Grimlock replied.

"Our objective was to purge the nobility, not steal their assets." Shockwave replied as he turned back toward the camouflage structure. "We will be taking off momentarily; as you have adequate transportation and fuel, you will be taking off now." Shockwave and his Decepticons marched back toward their hidden building.

Grimlock watched them leave for a few moments before turning and grumbling to his own soldiers. "Let's go."

Fortress Maximus

The makeshift airfield on the outskirts of Petrex had continued to expand over the last several hours, now that the assault on the army of sparkeaters was just hours away there was no more delaying commitments to the cause. There had been no putting off such commitments on the part of The Decagon, but the organizing and moving of their forces truly had just been completed a couple hours ago. Fortress Maximus looked up proudly at the descending freighters and troop transport carriers. Many fools considered their reclusiveness attributable to cowardice; when this war ends, those fools will know the truth, the truth that the line of Maximus and its vassals have no peer on the battlefield. A smaller transport ship separated from the rest of the House Maximus ships, this one bearing the wolf-like sigil of the Maximals. Fort Max…he pondered when he had started thinking of himself with the nickname Pious had given him for a moment before going back to realizing that these Maximals, some of House Maximus's most loyal and effective retainers, might be leaving their service to follow the one claiming to be a Convoy. No, this Orion Pax had never once made the claim. The young returning fugitive brushed it off and tried to find fault with the evidence others used to foist the claim upon him. He genuinely seemed to be uninterested in being the last Convoy, something that would make him a high noble, perhaps the highest noble short of royalty, and in the considerations of many commoners and low nobles on the planet, higher than the royal houses. By all discernable measures he was content being a commoner, but hell-bent on improving the lives of commoners. Fort Max grumbled at realizing that his pushing aside of the evidence all but confirming his Convoy heritage was perhaps the most Convoy thing he could possibly do. Ramulus was already convinced, Pious was on the cusp of believing as well, and Fortress…? He shelved the thought as his soldiers began filing out of the transports.

Two generals strode out from the disembarking soldiers and marched toward him, both tall and powerfully built, but dwarfed by the great Maximus. "Hail Fortress Maximus, greatest warrior of The Decagon and all of Cybertron!" The silver, slightly larger of the generals belted out, eliciting a smile from Fortress Maximus. "Welcome to Petrex Steelhaven, and to you as well Cerebros. Cerebros, please lead a battalion to assist in the evacuation of the civilians and the damaged Omega Supreme."

"Of course my lord." Cerebros replied. "It will be an honor and a privilege, not to mention the sating of a long held curiosity to see the Guardian of the Gates." With that the predominantly gray and blue robot set out to do his duty while Fortress Maximus and Steelhaven turned back to their forces to organize the assembling. It seemed pointless to have the troops disembark now, as the dawn was coming and with it the start of their attack on the sparkeaters, but these warriors had spent hours fighting the Decepticons, only to reassemble for the trip to Petrex and prep for a battle…nay, war, a war with an enemy so dangerous that fifteen million years later they still inspired terror in the entire planet. These warrior needed and deserved the few hours of downtime here in the safety south of the Mithril Sea that he and the other lords of Cybertron could provide them.

"Fortress Maximus, my lord, a word please?" The voice was both familiar and expected.

Fort Max and Steelhaven both turned to look upon the red, tan, silver and light green Maximal. "Of course, Apelinq. You fought with exceptional valor against the Decepticon raiders. You have the gratitude of House Maximus."

"It was an honor, Lord Maximus." Apelinq nodded. "And I look forward to fighting by your side in the war to come."

"But you wish to follow another into it." Fort Max cut to the chase, noting the look of surprise and then a bit of sadness coming from the Maximal.

"I mean no disrespect my lord." Apelinq replied. "But we have always been pledged to House Convoy. And the possibility that it still exists…" he looked down, then back deeply into Fortress Maximus's optics, "I have great respect for you, and I trust your word. Do you believe this Orion Pax to be of Convoy metallico?"

Fortress Maximus nodded and pondered that for a moment before answering. "I have never known a Convoy, both lords Big Convoy and Lio Convoy had long since gone missing when I was forged. But both of them have been described in great detail to me by members of my house, and I have been told of other Convoys by both Maximus and Maximal. I know of how they behaved, how they presented themselves, the tone and wisdom of their words, and I know of their physical traits. I have been studying this Orion Pax, I have been interested in him since the farce of his trial and even more so since his interruption of the Autobot executions and his subsequent disappearance. I know not whether the claim is true, but everything I've observed of him," he paused a moment and looked intently at Apelinq, sighing before continuing, "everything I've observed matches what I know to be true of House Convoy."

"My lord, I too greatly admire the lad, but his courage, humility and service to others are traits of many great houses." Steelhaven interjected. "In particular, House Pax. Many of the traits used to describe Big Convoy were every bit as true of Arlon Pax, the man who raised him."

"Yes, Arlon Pax was a tremendous emir and lord, worthy of comparison to Great Convoy himself," Apelinq started, "but Orion's…well, his look, he didn't get that from Arlon or any Pax. Many have blue helmets and silver crests, but his, well, his traits aren't Magnus or any of the others frequently likened to House Convoy. His look, it's uncannily Convoy."

"True, he does have the look." Steelhaven conceded.

"There's more than just his resemblance." Fortress Maximus stated. "In the cave of his birth, on Insula Avalonius, black coral was found, polished and shaped, not something naturally occurring, and dated to over twelve million years ago. I was not aware until it was explained to me today, but supposedly black coral has preservative properties for sentio metallico, though twelve million years is far beyond the capability of any preservative." He shook his head further. "But the demon king claimed Orion's metal tasted as though he was born the old way. None of us was familiar with the term, but when we returned to Petrex Omega Supreme confirmed it was a real thing. A strong enough spark can forge non-sentio compatible metal into a viable protoform. If the black coral was what remained of a cask filled with Convoy metallico, and it seeped into the metal of the cave, then it's possible the traits live on in Orion Pax." The huge robot shrugged. "It's thin, but it's possible. And it's enough to have convinced Ramulus." Fortress Maximus nodded solemnly to Apelinq. "See this Orion Pax for yourself. Speak to him. Come to know him. If you believe him to be the last of the Convoys, then you have my blessing, and I'm sure the blessing of Emir Pious Maximus as well."

Apelinq nodded humbly. "You have my thanks and eternal friendship my lord."

Nightbeat

The cell he was being kept in, nothing more than a small storage shed really, was just deep enough for him to lay down in and wide enough for him to sit against one wall with his feet just shy of touching the opposite wall. It would be adequate for a dormancy chamber, but was a bit claustrophobic for anything more. But apart from his confinement, these Maximals were treating him well enough. He was provided energon rations; daily, which seemed impossible for anywhere other than the home world. On Cybertron he'd usually only consume roughly twice a week unless there was some atypical exertion. And the energon they gave him was high quality. It seemed almost pure. True, there was an odd taste to it, energon emerging from different regions of Cybertron had its own flavor, but this stuff had a piquancy that Nightbeat had never encountered, which was to be expected. The fact that it didn't taste synthetic in any discernable way was not expected. It seemed to be slightly processed, but its potency was greater than anything he'd ever consumed…to the point where he wondered if any processing done to it was to thin it down.

The mystery of the rations he was being given would have to wait as the majority of his focus needed to be dedicated to finding a way out of this ship and off this planet. What was left of his focus was going toward a conversation with the Maximal on the other side of his door. Rattrap was a pain in the ass who looked out for himself, who, despite there being traces of evidence to suggest he had a good spark deep down, Nightbeat was certain would sell out a friend to advance his own agenda or well-being. A flash of his last meeting with Cosmos and the realization that the Maximals were dismantling the starhopper he'd pressured his little green friend into lending him made Nightbeat realize that he wasn't fit to judge anyone, even Rattrap. And even despite the little Maximal's character flaws, he was actually growing a bit fond of him, and continued listening to the whiny voice coming through the door he was leaning against. "So, in light of all that's happened and what's been thrust on him and all the shit he's taken, Polar Claw really isn't as bad as ya' think he is. Unless ya' think he's an overbearing…hey, didn't even plan that pun, joyless jerk who comes across as way too serious. Then ya'd be dead-on. Kinda reminds me of Big Convoy in the way-too-serious department, but I guess it makes sense as they were best friends and all. But at least he's keeping you here, instead of in the brig with the Preds we got."

"He's holding me without formal charges and has confiscated my ship." Nightbeat grumbled back through the narrow slit between the floor and the bottom of the door. "But yeah, I'm sure I'm judging him too harshly."

"Actually, funny you should mention that." The deep, booming voice of Polar Claw announced, the sound accompanied by his footsteps. Nightbeat slid up, pushing against the door to get to his feet and stepped away from the door. A moment later it slid open and the hulking red and white Maximal Commander was standing next to Rattrap, a tray in his hand with a few small crystals of energon on it. "We've come up with a formal charge for you. Enemy operative."

"Enemy operative?" Nightbeat chuckled incredulously. "I am an agent for the legal government of Cybertron, therefore I'm to assume you view Cybertron as the enemy?"

Polar Claw glared down at him. "I am loyal to House Convoy. With their…demise I remain loyal to the ideals they held and championed. They fought to save this world from a weapon created by an agent of the Cybertronian government…well, no, the Senate forbade what he was doing, his sanction was in secret, but from an authority even greater than the Senate."

"Yeah, yeah, Jhiaxus was working on his Ferrotaxis on this Earth with the full but secret support of Guardian Prime." Nightbeat muttered. "I've heard it, hell, I believe it, but you have to know I had nothing to do with any of that. I'll help you dismantle the Ferrotaxis and eliminate all plans for it, as well as compiling the evidence against Guardian Prime and his crew prior to making the Manifest flight capable and getting it back to Cybertron. After the sparkeater threat has been taken care of, I'll testify all I know, and I will not be coerced or intimidated by Guardian Prime or any successor should he not survive, nor will his legend or any heroic action on his part against the sparkeaters influence me from withholding any damning testimony. You have my word."

"Your word." Polar Claw grumbled, but his facial features softened a bit. "Here's the thing, I might be inclined to believe you, but it really doesn't matter. The fact is that all you can testify to is that Guardian Prime appeared to allow development of the Ferrotaxis to continue after the Senate ordered it shut down, and I say 'appeared to' because frankly, neither you nor I have proof that he knew what Jhiaxus was up to here. I know that Big Convoy believed Guardian Prime was aware and supportive of Jhiaxus using this world as a testing site for his cyber-forming endeavor, and Big Convoy being convinced was enough for me, but it won't be enough for the Senate or anyone else to level charges against the great Guardian Prime. But for the sake of argument, let's say it was enough to convince them; would it even matter? You mention Prime's legend, I'm assuming it hasn't diminished in the million years since his departure from Cybertron, and if it hasn't, he can get away with whatever he wants. He's viewed in an almost godlike way, and not without good reason. Frankly, had anyone other than a Convoy told me to act against him, I'd have told them to piss off. And what he's done, and what he allegedly planned to do…I really don't see that causing outrage on Cybertron." The red and white Maximal nodded down at the energon crystals on the tray in his hands. "Jhiaxus's device was activated, and ran for a matter of hours, and in that time managed to alter this planet's geology to the point where it produced energon. Not some synthetic garbage the other colonies are forced to manufacture to survive, but real, naturally growing energon. And not just energon, but an energon with a potency greater than anything on the home world. We have to water it down to consume it without there being certain…side effects, but side effects that damn near everyone would be more than happy to contend with." Nightbeat suppressed his smile at having already figured that part out on his own. The hulking robot shook his head. "I'm in charge of the group keeping he and his crew from rescue, and even I see the appeal in what Jhiaxus is doing. Throw the Ferrotaxis on any planet falling within certain parameters, and even if you don't fully cyber-form the thing, you at least have a new, large-scale source of energon. Enough so that no Cybertronian will ever know hunger again, ever."

"But at what cost?" Nightbeat asked, partly to counter the argument, but mainly because he genuinely didn't know the full impact of the Ferrotaxis's activation.

Polar Claw regarded Nightbeat with a long look before finally nodding. "Significant seismic events that were felt around the planet caused by the initial modification wave. It was that wave that contained the geologic…overwriting, for lack of a better term, that caused the changes that would lead to this energon being produced. Human settlements all over the world were ravaged by earthquakes, coastal civilizations were decimated by tsunamis, and many of those closest to our island, where the Ferrotaxis was stored and activated, mainly southern Europe and northern Africa, were wiped from existence. Our island, which we'd allowed a human civilization to establish itself on and which had grown into a population numbering in the hundreds of thousands, began to cyber-form in earnest, turning metallic, producing an even more heightened form of energon than what started sprouting in other parts of the planet. The native islanders…" Polar Claw looked down, "well, it claimed an unfathomably high toll, and that was just with the Ferrotaxis on for a matter of hours." The Maximal Commander turned his head back up and locked optics with Nightbeat. "But it's not a cost Cybertronians will have to pay, so they won't hesitate to support Guardian Prime's usage of that damn device, and you know it."

Nightbeat nodded. "But we can't let Cybertron die."

Polar Claw shrugged. "Maybe they can fend for themselves. They managed fifteen million years ago." With that he thrust the tray into Nightbeat's hands and backed away, allowing the door to shut and the locks to engage. "Enjoy your meal."

Nightbeat looked down at the glowing pink embers on his tray, studying them as best he could. He wasn't a chemist, but even protoforms knew energon was essentially just concentrated energy…well, perhaps an oversimplification, but it was an exceptionally dense and potent energy source, and as such, well, boom. Well, it was more complicated than just 'boom', igniting energon was not as simple as many thought, even in its most volatile liquid state; if it were, every Cybertronian in existence would be a walking explosive. The crystalline form, its natural state, could be ingested through a Cybertronian's ambient absorption circuitry, the energy shifted from physical to a near-gaseous form and drawn into the frame. The processed liquid form could be ingested faster, the energy introduced to the frame quicker, and was an overall more enjoyable form for consumption, but it was also less stable. "Wait!" He called out, taking a chance, placing the tray of energon crystals on the floor before standing back up.

"What?" Polar Claw's voice replied from the other side of the door.

"Look, you're holding me here against my will, on bullshit trumped up charges, for reasons that, while I don't agree with, I get. But I think we can all agree that I'm not being held here as punishment for anything I've done, right?" Nightbeat responded.

"What's your point?" Rattrap asked.

"Just that I'm not a criminal, I'm just someone you guys can't let leave." Nightbeat shot back. "So given that this Earth has plenty of energon, at least that's the gist of what I took away from our last conversation, can I request that I get some in liquid form? I prefer to drink mine more than drop it down my gullet or absorb it through the air, I'm sure you can understand."

The door slid open and Polar Claw glared at the smaller robot. "OK, I'll grant this request," the hulking Maximal replied grumpily, prompting Nightbeat reach down and pluck the crystals off the tray, leaving the tray on the ground, and offering them to his captors, "but if you think that you're going to grind us down with whining and demands to the point of letting you go, you're going to be very disappointed. Your pal Rattrap here has 'squeaky wheeled' me and everyone else in our crew to the point of being completely numb to complaining twats."

Nightbeat smiled. "I just prefer liquid energon, that's all."

Polar Claw reached forward and snatched the crystals out of the prisoner's hand, paused, and then reached his other hand behind his back. "I just so happen to have a vial I was saving for myself later." He revealed a small sealed tube with the glowing liquid substance within. "Here, now shut up and enjoy."

"Thank you." Nightbeat replied as the door slid shut again. He stared hungrily at the liquid in the vial, but his frame wasn't low at this point, Maximal hospitality had seen to that, and given that this Earth was now an energon-producing world thanks to Jhiaxus's modifications eleven to twelve thousand years before, Nightbeat could afford to skip a meal…provided he could actually get out of this heap. He listened to the two sets of footsteps grow quieter as Polar Claw and Rattrap retreated down the hall before even considering what needed to be done.

This Axalon appeared to be just a standard exploration vessel. Perhaps a bit on the large side, but otherwise standard, and certainly nothing here to suggest any sort of special reinforcement. He looked around the small room and based on what he saw, it was likely he was the first prisoner to be kept in here, so the walls and floor of this closet should definitely not have had any additional buttressing. He couldn't pound his way through it…even Sentinel Prime, Primus rest his arrogant spark, probably couldn't batter through the walls or floor of the room. Well, maybe he could, but there's no way these Maximals would think reinforcing the small room would be necessary for someone with Nightbeat's level of brawn. Of course, brains was a different matter, and one they completely overlooked.

He studied the vial of the native lifeblood he had been given for several minutes. It wasn't much energon, but if ignited it could definitely blast through the seams at a connection point in the floor and wall. And in liquid form, hitting that ignition point would be tricky without certain tools, but it would be possible; certainly far more possible than with crystals. In lieu of tools, all he had were non-essential anatomical components from his own frame. His visor and several redundant components he'd had installed prior to his initial open-ended off world mission were soon removed and cobbled together into a detonator of sorts. Well, a detonator was probably too fancy a name for what was essentially just a flare, but whatever he chose to call it, it should theoretically burn hot enough to ignite the energon.

He laid the vial on the floor against the wall opposite the door, propping it up just enough so that he could remove the vial cap without any spilling out, then arranged his makeshift flare, detonator, whatever, and once all that was in place he gently laid the overlooked metal tray on top of it all. He leaned over, paused before initiating the timer he had built into the detonator, and went through what he needed to do. He had paid attention when traveling here, he was roughly one hundred miles northwest of what the local humans called the Queen Elizabeth Islands, a part of the nation of Canada. That would be his first target once he got out of this ship. Unfortunately, getting free of this Axalon, even once he broke out of this room, was something he would have to play by ear. But delaying his escape attempt over concerns that he was unable to mitigate was pointless, so he leaned forward and activated the timer.

He had allowed himself thirty seconds to fully position and brace himself for the blast, but realized that five would have been more than enough. The subsequent twenty-five seconds seemed an eternity, but finally the flare activated and every sense he had was immediately overwhelmed as the energon ignited. His feet were braced against the metal tray, but the blast was still significant enough to send him hurtling backward into the door, leaving him momentarily stunned. He was dazed, his audio receptors were ringing, his movements slow and sluggish, and he was quickly feeling pain throughout his entire frame, but he was still conscious and aware of what needed to be done. The tray was in charred pieces, his feet were scorched and heavily dented as well but appeared to still be assembled as they should be and he was able to move them through the pain that was getting progressively worse as his senses slowly grew less dull. He scrambled to the blast point and smiled as he saw the metal seams torn apart. He immediately set upon the tear, bashing and pulling at the damaged metal to make the hole large enough for him to slip through. He bent it just enough to finally slide his body to the room below whatever was housed behind his 'cell'. He fell through and landed on the floor of the dark room with a thud, knocking over various tools as he jumped up to a standing position. He hobbled to the door and it opened at sensing his movement, leading him out into a well-lit hallway.

Twenty yards down the hall to his right a door on the opposite wall opened, and out trotted a very confused and worried Rattrap. "Predacon attack!" He yelled before catching sight of Nightbeat. "Oh, thank Prim…wait, what're you…" Nightbeat charged him and drove them both back into Rattrap's room, Nightbeat's left hand forming a tight seal over Rattrap's mouth.

"Sorry Rattrap, I do like you," Nightbeat said as he pulled his right fist back while pushing Rattrap against the wall of his room, "but, well," his fist drove into the much smaller robot's face and slamming the back of his head against the wall, leaving the small robot unconscious, "you know, escaping." Nightbeat carefully lowered the small Maximal to the floor and turned to leave, "Ahhh!" The mangled appearance of half of a monstrous green and yellow face startled the escaping prisoner, a shock exacerbated by the ship's alarms going off right at that moment. Nightbeat stumbled back away from the macabre mounted trophy and into the closet across the room, where he bumped into the contents causing more green and yellow body parts to fall on top of him. They were an odd mix of robotic and insect pieces, and he panicked to get away from the ghastly avalanche of frame parts. "Primus!" He growled to himself as he got to the center of the room and turned to look at the pile of components that appeared to have come from the same individual, though given the sheer number of pieces, this individual must have been mutilated, repaired, and mutilated again many times for there to be this many pieces. Nightbeat finally regained his composure and looked down at the dormant Rattrap. "You've got issues, pal." He looked back at the pile of parts one last time, but this time noted that mixed in with the grisly pile were several demolition charges. "Oh thank Primus." Nightbeat muttered as he scooped up two of them and headed out the door, cautiously making his way down the hall.

The blue and yellow robot limped his way quickly but stealthily down the hall, the alarm almost painfully bouncing against the walls. He had a rough knowledge of the layout of this type of ship, and made his way to the rec room. He knew the normal exit points would be sealed and guarded, but with these charges he'd poached from Rattrap, he should be able to make his own exit should he come across a weak point in the hull. Ports were made of transparent metal, which while strong, lacked the density to be truly durable. They almost always had a more traditional metal 'curtain' that could come down if there was any threat of breach, but for a ship long on the ground, there seemed no reason to have the shades drawn in the rec room. He saw it on the opposite end of the hallway he had just entered and hobbled faster toward the doorway. Fortunately the room was empty and the large transparent window was clear, the view of the artic north clearly visible. Nightbeat set the charges to 5 seconds each and planted them a few feet apart on the window. "There he is!"

Nightbeat turned to see a lean, athletic fifteen foot robot predominantly covered in bluish fur glaring at him from the door. Nightbeat looked back at the charges just feet away from him to see them down to four seconds, and then back to the blue Maximal before sprinting away from the window. The blue robot shot toward him and grabbed him, flinging him over a couch and to the floor. Nightbeat looked up at the grinning Maximal standing on the other side of the couch glaring down at him and raising his wrist to his face to speak. "In Rec Room Alpha, prisoner sec…"

Boom!

The blast sent the robot hurtling over the couch and into the wall opposite the now shattered window. Nightbeat, protected from the blast by the overturned couch, was immediately on his feet and sprinting toward the now exposed frozen wastes, but the opening would not be there for long as the breach had caused the safety protocols to draw the solid metal protective shields to close. Nightbeat dove through just before the top and bottom shields came together to seal off the outside. The Cybertronian fell ninety feet into a snowbank and rolled down and through it to the icy ground. He looked back at the Axalon before transforming and zipping around it to head south to the Queen Elizabeth Islands.

Roller Pax

He had never had anything against House Ambus, he had always liked them more than most houses, but after learning that Orion may be a Convoy he'd started taking up grudges that he felt a Convoy should have; Orion certainly wouldn't adopt and harbor these grudges, so it fell to Roller to do it for him. Obviously House Onyx was now even more on his shit list than they had already been…or at least they would have been were there any Onyx's left. But according to some historical interpretations, House Ambus was in a position to have detected Deathsaurus's march into their emirate on his way toward the Convoy lands that straddled the borders of Tyrest and the Tagan Heights, and chose to do nothing to aid the ancient and beloved house that long pre-dated the Knights. Despite this recently formed negative bias, Roller was pleasant to the tiny bearded green and white robot sitting across from he and Orion at their table against the wall of the pub they were in for one last, and in Orion's case, first vial of engex before the war began. Being pleasant seemed the least he could do in light of the fact that this robot was one of only two surviving members of House Ambus, even though he had hopped onto Elita's vacant seat a moment ago without invitation. "Everyone's looking to you." Minimus Ambus stated before taking a swig of his engex that he had carried over to their table with him, the container smaller than one Roller or Orion would use, but which was comically large in the hands of the diminutive royal. "You were common born, or so the initial assumption was, but raised by what most Cybertronians consider to be the most honorable House on the planet. At the very least it was an honorable house led by an Emir that ALL Cybertronians considered to be the most honorable Emir on the planet. Even without an actual birthright, or a formal adoption into House Pax, you were loved and respected enough to prompt afore mentioned most-honorable Emir Arlon Pax to defy the laws, social norms, and the Prime of Cybertron, knowing full well the likely outcome, to not only support you, but to say that you were a better example of all that is right and good and honorable than even he was."

"What's your point?" Roller said, noting the look of sadness and regret coming over Orion's face at the memory of Arlon's murder.

Minimus smiled sadly into his drink. "Just that I felt Orion Pax was worth meeting. And also, Emir Pax, I feel the need to point out that your…"

"Brother." Orion clarified at Minimus's brief pause and stretched left optic.

"Yes, your brother's very existence is…polarizing." Minimus replied. Roller had always been a bit self-conscious about his fourteen foot stature, but Minimus was barely half that height. Roller was just short enough to recognize an overcompensation due to small size, in this case it was Minimus's desire to be seen as smarter than everyone else. "He has great appeal to the masses due to his perceived common birth, galvanized by his affiliation with the now-vindicated Autobots. He also has great appeal to many of the more enlightened nobles and royals due to being raised by, respected by, and even loved by Arlon Pax. His brief but impressive attack on Megatron has also earned him the sparks and minds of many highborn, none more so than me…" The tiny robot stared sadly into his drink for a moment before continuing his thought. "And now there's the belief that he is born of Convoy metallico…"

"That barely qualifies as a rumor." Orion muttered.

"A rumor that's spread quickly and is widely believed." Minimus answered. "And a Convoy, the most ancient and beloved of Houses, the House that led the way in ridding us of the five-faced demons,"

"A myth." Orion muttered again.

"Violen Jiger kinda confirmed it though." Roller interjected.

"Thought we established he was at best an unreliable source." Orion quietly grumbled in reply.

Minimus smiled at the quiet bickering as he continued, "a Convoy that is born in recent times in an impossible place, in an impossible way, an event that defies everything we know to be true, and found by just the right member of just the right house…" Minimus Ambus paused dramatically and shook his head, "it's nothing short of awe-inspiring."

"Don't forget the green spark." Roller chimed in jokingly, giving the uncomfortable Orion a playful elbow to the side.

"Yes, of course, there is that as well." Minimus added with another sad smile.

Orion looked up, though just slightly, and peered intently into Minimus's face. "None of this sounds anything like a point, my lord."

"My point is, everyone is going to be looking to you, Orion Pax of House Convoy, or whoever you choose to be." Minimus replied.

"Orion Pax of Iacon." Orion replied. "It's who I am, it's how I would choose to be called."

"Ah, an interesting compromise; honoring your adopted family while still trying to sound like a commoner." Minimus mirthfully responded. "Very Autobot of you, but it doesn't quite work." The tiny robot rolled his head thoughtfully. "It does have a catchy ring to it though."

"Point." Roller grumbled.

Minimus smiled, cognizant that he was wearing on the nerves of the Paxes and then looked directly at Orion. "They will be looking to you for inspiration, they will be looking to you for leadership, they will be looking to you for protection and guidance and justice and everything else under the sun. And maybe they'll be right to do so, maybe they won't be, I genuinely have no idea. But if they ARE right to be looking to you, if you really ARE worthy of this attention and devotion on any level, it won't be because of destiny, or birthright, your metallico, your spark or whatever name you bear. It will be because you AREN'T good enough, but you strive to be."

"Excuse me?" Roller growled, outraged by the statement.

"Oh, he's beyond good enough in my optics and in yours, but it's his own optics that matter." Minimus replied, his optics locked onto Orion's once again, but continuing to answer Roller. "And for the good of our planet, I pray that the goal forever remains ahead of Orion, just outside his grasp. He will always drive himself to be better, to be braver, to be more intelligent, prepared, noble and self-sacrificing."

"Any more self-sacrificing and I'll be laying his corpse on the Pax metallico pool!" Roller snarled.

"It may come to that." Minimus replied, still staring intently at Orion. "It likely will come to that unfortunately. I pray it doesn't, he may not be the most fun drinking companion I've ever had, particularly since he doesn't seem to be drinking, but fun or not, I desperately want Orion to live through this ordeal. I want us all to live through it, but Orion strikes me as the type to put the survival of the rest of us before his own, so I'm less than optimistic for his continued existence. And it saddens me, even more so than I already am to think on it. Cybertron is a better place with him in it, and not only because he's proven adept at killing sparkeaters." The tiny royal looked back up at Orion's face, a look of sadness etched clearly on Minimus's mustachioed and bearded face. "But if Cybertron is to survive, Orion Pax and others like him must continue to do what he's always done. What you did at Tyger Pax you must continue to do, and be seen doing it. Put yourself in harm's way, inspire others to do the same, and maybe some of us will be alive at the end of all this."

"You want him to live, but you're telling him to die." Roller grumbled.

"I want him to always live to see another day, but we need for him to continue to be the hero he's been, and more importantly, to be the motivating figure everyone sees him as." Minimus clarified. "We've been fortunate that so many of your exploits have been recorded and seen by the masses,"

"Not punching Lugnut." Roller chuckled quietly.

"Thank Primus for that." Orion replied with an equally quiet chuckle.

Minimus looked from one brother to the other and smiled, allowing them their private joke before continuing. "Through no intent of your own, you've become an inspiration to so many on this world, to the point where a fifteen year old, barely a legal adult, who's spent fourteen of those years exiled off world, will be leading hundreds, possibly thousands into battle in mere hours."

"I'm not leadi…" Orion sighed in exasperation, "look, I'm part of the attack planning committee, I offer insights into the sparkeaters as Roller, Kup, Omega Supreme and I are the only ones to have faced them and lived, and I may be given command over a squad, or maybe even a platoon, but there's no way I'm lea…"

"I've heard whispers that the Autobots are planning on naming you their military commander." Minimus shot back with a smile.

"What? I've spent a combined total of a few days in their ranks!" Orion protested.

"Plus it just seems unnatural for a commoners-rights organization to be led by someone named Orion Pax of House Convoy." Roller chuckled.

"I thought we'd covered what my name is." Orion grumbled quietly at his brother.

"It's just what I've heard." Minimus shrugged. "And I've heard other whispers that you may have a few hundred Maximals on the cusp of swearing allegiance to you as well."

"Even I predicted that would happen." Roller chuckled.

"So you will have armies of your own, and even outside of Autobots and Maximals, people will be looking to you." Minimus continued. "Millions will think of you as special in some way." The tiny robot stood up on his chair and then stepped onto the table, crossing it and pointing directly into the crest of Orion's post-protoformal helmet. "But in here, make sure that you're not. By all means, be confident in your considerable abilities, but great people stop being great the moment they realize how great they are, so continue to focus on your shortcomings and how to remove them."

"Why is Minimus Ambus standing on our table?" Elita asked as she arrived with a tray containing three mid-sized vials of engex.

"He's punctuating his request for Orion to stay humble by touching his head." Roller replied with a smirk, the comment causing Minimus to turn and smile at him before looking to Elita.

"Elita One, I…" his face lowered for a moment before looking back into her optics, "House Ambus, what's left of it anyway, sends its sympathies to…" his voice cracked, he couldn't go on.

"I know my lord." Elita sadly replied, her hand finding its way to his tiny shoulder and gently cupping it. "There's no need for words, just know that House Sol…that I offer the same condolences. In time both Ambus and Solus will rebuild, and House Ambus will always have a friend in Hyperious."

"Thank you, my One." Minimus looked up at her. "If I may ask…what was it like to kill them?"

Elita stared at him intently before answering. "I didn't kill them all. I didn't kill enough, but…I'm ashamed to say that killing those I did get ahold of was…it felt good." She turned her head.

"Thank you my lady." Minimus turned to look across the bar at a large, predominantly blue robot with a mustache and beard identical to his own. "It appears my Emir and kinsman Dominus has finally pulled himself away from Delta Magnus." The tone was less than approving.

"You're not fond of Emir Magnus?" Elita asked as she took her seat. "You know that if we get through this, he's likely to be named Prime."

"I'll not be the one to nominate him." Minimus replied as he leapt from the table to the floor. "I'm not particularly fond of religious zealots. I bid you all a fine day." With that he walked across the pub to the powerfully built blue robot that was roughly three times his height.

"That's gotta be tou…" Roller started saying before realizing the surviving Ambus's loss was no different than that of the femme seated to his left at the circular table. "Oh, sorry El."

"I know, and it is tough." She replied sadly, Orion reaching over to cover her hand on the table. She smiled up at him. "But we're not dwelling on that now. We've come from a period of death, and we'll be diving into another period of death. Right now, we celebrate life." She raised her glass, prompting the other two to do the same. "And the return of dear friends."

"I think this is a bad idea, we're planning on leaving in a few hours for battle." Orion stated as he held his glass in front of him.

"You're not going to imbibe that much." Elita replied.

"I think he's scared of it." Roller joked.

"I consumed nothing but Junkion swill for fourteen years, believe me, I'm not afraid of this dainty slush." Orion chuckled back.

"Just be warned, you drink enough of that and Elita will have no problem getting into your spark casing."

"You're disgusting." Elita snapped at Roller.

"Roller!" Orion snarled.

"What?" Roller shrugged. "You're old enough to do it, we're all definitely old enough to joke about it." He then looked at Orion. "You do realize that it's really a thing, right?"

Orion's optics grew wide. "Of course I know! I've seen the damage it can do."

"Damage?" Roller was genuinely surprised. "Yeah, there's a bit of disorientation afterward, I wouldn't suggest racing through the streets immediately after you're done doing it, but there's really no damage."

"Roller," Elita calmly replied as she understood the confusion, "while we were in Rodion one time, our first meeting actually, Orion and I came across a situation where it was forced on someone."

"Forced?" Roller answered in surprise. "How could they tear through the plating? Was there a hatch? I couldn't do it. Heck, you'd have to be almost as strong as Ori…"

"It was Overlord." Orion stated.

"That giant shitbag with the Decepticons?" Roller shot back startled, then shrugged. "Yeah, I can see that."

"But Orion," Elita turned to the red and blue returning former fugitive, "it's not always forced. In fact, I've heard it can be wonderful."

"It is." Roller chuckled as he raised his glass to his lips, imbibing a nice long swig before putting his glass back down on the table and noticing the other two looking at him with an unsaid question in their optics. "What?"

"It is?" Orion mimicked Roller's comment with a questioning twist at the end.

"Something you wish to elaborate on, Emir Pax?" Elita asked.

Roller looked back and forth between them as a smile slowly started to spread over his face. He finally shrugged. "Well El, you and I have never really been ones to share deepest and darkests," he turned to Orion, "and you've been incommunicado for fourteen years."

"Whose fault is that?" Orion grumbled back good-naturedly.

"That's open to debate, but if you'd like to change course and discuss that…"

"No!" Both Elita and Orion nearly shouted back. Elita continued with an incredulous grin. "We're not changing the subject, now spill."

"You'd better do it, she's an emir." Orion stated.

"I'm an emir!" Roller replied.

"Yeah, but she has the Apex Armor, so just do as she says." Orion finished with a wide grin.

"Fine," Roller feigned displeasure, pointing at Orion, "but I need you to be clear on something, absolutely clear, OK?"

"Uhm, OK, what do I need to be clear on?" A confused Orion asked.

"You've got one girl, Elita, right?" Roller pressed. "Everyone else on Cybertron is fair game, right?"

Orion was even more confused, and distracted as he fielded an almost accusatory look from Elita. "Of course, I'm not interested in anyone else."

"I don't think he even knows any other femmes." Elita replied, half joking but half worried. "Seriously, what other femme has he ever cared about?"

"Holy Primus!" Orion snarled, then lowered his voice so that even the other two had trouble hearing him. "Don't tell me Torenia!"

"Tor…come on Orion, you're a scumbag for even imagining that!" Roller shot back, genuinely offended.

"Well who else is there?" Orion questioned. "One of the seventeen other Pax femmes? You never met and I don't remember mentioning any of the femmes I worked with in Iacon or Rodion."

"Nope." Roller replied, a grin sliding slowly across his face. "This is a Polarus girl."

Orion pondered that. "I don't know any Polar…ohhhh." A look of realization dawned on him and Roller started laughing. "No way, Ariel?"

"Ha! Yep!" Roller replied heartily.

"Damn Brother, good job!" Orion slapped Roller on the shoulder.

"Who's Ariel?" Elita asked, still slightly suspicious despite Orion clearly bearing nothing akin to jealousy.

"Ariel, well, she'd have been you in a different life." Roller chuckled. "Orion's girlfriend that is."

"No, she was very pretty and very sweet, but I was never interested in her." Orion replied calmly, but still sent a nervous look toward Elita to gauge her reaction.

"Well, she was interested in you." Roller replied. "I snuck out a lot while you were in Iacon and later Rodion, and Dion and I would frequently wind up at the Wolf at the Door, and every slagging time Ariel would ask how you were and when you'd be back. And after…well, you know, I kinda went on weapons acquisition mode, which involved Dion, and we did a lot of our planning at the Wolf, and eventually Ariel got on board and helped us out, and she did ask about you from time to time, buuuutttttt, well, over the years she and I started to get closer, we started to share things, lingering stares, suggestive playful comments, and then one night we were kissing. No big deal, but a few nights later we were kissing again. And then every time we saw each other we'd find some time to make out. And then we started scheduling meetings that had nothing to do with Sentinel-busting preparation, we were just meeting to meet, and then she mentioned it, and after a lot of time and discussion,"

"Bullshit." Orion interrupted.

"OK, fine, it was the next day, and the only reason we waited that long is because she chose to bring it up two minutes before I needed to head back to Tyger Pax." Roller shook his head at Orion. "Know-it-all jackass."

"Never claimed to know it all, I just know you." Orion chuckled.

"Shaddup." Roller snapped. "You want to hear the rest or not?"

"By all means, please continue." Orion raised his hands defensively.

"Holy weld slag, it's true!" A voice unknown to Roller called out from the doorway of the bar before he could continue. Orion and Elita reacted immediately to it, their head's twisting in a blur to view the speaker, and based on their reactions it was clear that they knew the voice well.

"Ratchet!" Elita called out as she sprung from her seat, toppling her chair, Orion right behind her. She threw herself into Ratchet's awaiting arms and they embraced tightly.

"I'm so sorry to hear about Exp…your entire House." Ratchet muttered, his nearly whispered comment was heard by most as the pub had gone silent at Elita and Orion charging across the large room.

"You were his dearest friend." She whispered back sadly.

"He always knew you'd be able to activate the armor." Ratchet replied as he pulled back and kissed her gently on the forehead. His optics darted over to catch the sight of Orion Pax. "Damn it boy, I mourned you every day for fourteen years." He released Elita and pulled the larger Orion into a tight hug, one that Orion reciprocated with equal intensity. "I never was religious until word came in yesterday that you were still alive. Thank any and all gods you weren't taken from us."

"I missed you too, old bot." Orion replied as they pulled back, he looked over his friend and his optics settled on a feature on his shoulder that hadn't been there the last time they had seen each other. "You're an Autobot now?" He asked loudly as he pressed his fingers against the red face of the Common Man etched onto his shoulder.

"Yeah, seeing you take a stand against Sentinel Prime kind of spurred something in me." Ratchet said, then reached over and flipped a piece of thin dermal plating above the brand that fell over it to hide it. "Though until word it was the gladiators behind the terrorist acts gained widespread acceptance a few days ago, I needed to be cautious about who saw this on me." A quick tap and the plating receded back to re-reveal the red face.

"I'd like for you to put one on my shoulder." Orion stated. "It's long past due."

Ratchet smiled. "Glad to hear you say that. Very appropriate actually. There's a bunch of Autobots outside right now, they know we used to be tight,"

"Still are."

Ratchet smiled even more broadly. "Yeah, anyway, they want me to ask you something."

"You mean Ambus was right?" Roller said as he approached the three.

Ratchet pulled back from Orion and gave Roller a quick once-over. "Nice to finally meet you, Emir Pax."

"For you it's just Roller." Roller offered his wrist in greeting. "You're family to Orion, you're family to me."

Ratchet smiled and nodded as they shook wrists. "Always room for more family, though I think I'll hold off on taking the Pax designation, don't want people thinking of multiple packages of ratchets when they hear my name." He gave the shorter emir a light-hearted slap on the shoulder before getting a bit more serious. "Not sure what Ambus said, or even which Ambus you're talking about, though unfortunately there's only a fifty-fifty chance of me guessing wrong."

"You're going to ask him to be military commander of the Autobots, aren't you?" Roller asked.

Ratchet shrugged. "Yep." He turned to Orion. "Don't know where you've been these last fourteen years, but according to Blaster, wherever it was you were a general in a war."

Orion nodded. "Something like that."

"There's the experience. That was the only missing ingredient. You've always had brains and grit galore." Ratchet said. "Come on out, I think the boys want to be the ones to formally offer you the position."

"I don't even know most of them." Orion protested lightly.

"You asked for the brand, so it's no longer them, it's us now, boy." Ratchet said as he took Orion by the arm and led him to the door. "And even after well over a decade, I still don't know most of us." They stepped outside into the rising sunlight, and there to greet them were over two hundred robots, all bearing the faces of the Common Man, or what had taken to being called the Autobrand in recent years. In front were Prowl, Jazz, Blaster, and Wheeljack. "Something you lowborn lads wish to ask Lord Pax of House Convoy?"

"Don't call me that." Orion grumbled quietly, eliciting a laugh from Ratchet and the other Autobots close enough to hear the comment.

"There is." Jazz replied after his light chuckle, stepping forward. "On paper, this is a terrible idea. Taking your fourteen year hiatus out of the equation, I can count the number of days you've been our ally on the fingers of one hand, and that's as an ally; you've never become an Autobot."

"About that, Jazz," Ratchet cut in, "he asked me to give him the brand in there, before he knew you were here waiting to discuss something."

Jazz nodded. "Good to hear, that makes this a little less insane I guess. It's still insane, but slightly less than before." He then looked intently at Orion. "So despite you only recently deciding to join us, and your age, and your affiliation with one or possibly two high houses, and the fact that you arrested several of us, kicking my ass in particular," light laughter wafted through the crowd, "despite all that, we Autobots would name you our military commander for the coming war with the sparkeaters. That is, if you'd be open to the responsibility."

Orion looked over the assembled Autobots, despite being forewarned by Minimus Ambus of this possibility he seemed stunned. Ratchet leaned in close. "It's a lot to take in Orion, but we need you."

Prowl stepped forward and leaned up to whisper to Orion as well, though Ratchet, Elita and Roller were all close enough to hear his words. "It's more symbolic than anything, Lord Pax. You will have command, your words will carry the weight of your position, but you will have many advisors, myself in that number, so you won't be on your own by any means."

"Symbolic?" Roller asked.

Prowl shifted his gaze to take in the Emir of The Torus Heights. "Yes, symbolically Orion is of great value to the Autobot cause and the war effort as a whole. The status of his origin is a mystery, and his perceived indifference to a potential high birth reinforces the legitimacy of our stance for total legal equality. If someone as intelligent and respected as Orion Pax puts our cause ahead of ascending to the head of an ancient and celebrated house, our cause cannot be ignored. And let's not forget that Arlon Pax's dying words were praising his actions and supporting our cause. And while all this would normally cheese off the highborn, his actions against Megatron seems to have won them over as well. As for the coming fight, he's the only one in fifteen million years to have killed a sparkeater, and he rescued Omega Supreme while doing so."

"Hey, I helped with that, thank you very much!" Roller protested jokingly.

"That's right, thank you for the reminder, Emir Pax." Prowl answered. "Having an unshakable relationship with the only royal house not to have been decimated by the Decepticons is an added boost to Orion's symbolism. Then there are the non-symbolic reasons; namely that I've seen his post-protoformal test scores and had a hand in training him." He looked up at Orion. "So what is your answer, Orion? Will you lead us?"

Orion looked over the Autobots for a few moments before finally nodding. "Aye, I accept the honor of being your military commander." He looked over to Ratchet as the Autobots started to applaud. "Guess there's no backing out of that brand now."

The applause quickly subsided as another large group approached, a group made up of a few dozen Cybertronians mixed evenly between humanoid robotic modes and bestial shell-modes. At the front were two robots, both with a lighter shade against a dark red, one with a very light gray covering most of his moderate frame along with the red, the other a cream and little bit of pale green mixed with the red of his hulking frame. They were immediately recognized as Maximals, legend had it that their ancestors were lowly and discriminated Nyonians who House Convoy offered sanctuary on their lands. Leaving the torment suffered under House Onyx and finding themselves welcomed as equals by an influential house on fertile lands was overwhelming to the ancestors of what would one day become Maximals, and their loyalty to House Convoy never diminished, even after the destruction of their breeding pool and holdings. Only two Convoy and several hundred Maximals survived after Deathsaurus's assault, and they were once again given sanctuary, this time by House Maximus of The Decagon. They were given scenic and abundant lands to the east of Protihex, lands with four hotspots for the refugees to claim as their own, three of which have gone barren and four new ones have come in to being in the twelve million years since they settled the land. To honor their saviors they took the name Maximals, but their true loyalty has always been to House Convoy.

"We would have words with the one called Orion Pax!" The hulking red and cream Maximal called out as they came to a stop next to the group of Autobots.

"I am Orion Pax." Orion replied.

"We know who you are." The other lead Maximal, horns jutting out of his right forearm, called back in reply. "And more importantly, we know what you are."

"And here it comes." Roller whispered.

"We can speak in private if you'd like." Orion replied to the Maximals, ignoring Roller's comment.

"Nay," the powerfully built robot replied, "as the Autobots declared publicly for you, so shall we." As one, all the Maximals dropped to their knees, even those in beast modes. "We Maximals have waited over one million years for a Convoy to return. You, Orion Pax, are undoubtedly of Convoy metal. We pledge ourselves to your service, we will fight and die for you."

"Please stand for me!" Orion protested, then looked to everyone gathered near the front of the pub, dozens of observers who were neither Autobot nor Maximal had been drawn in by their curiosity at the expanding crowd. "As an Autobot, as a Convoy," he looked over and placed his hand on Roller's shoulder and smiled, "and as a Pax, I will make it my goal to create a world where nobody ever need kneel before another."

"A very noble aspiration, Orion Pax." A voice called out before the crowd could react. Everyone turned to see Ultra Magnus standing off to the side of the building. "But it's going to have to wait. We've received word that the sparkeaters are on the move. If we're going to be entrenched near Peptex when they arrive there, we'd better move now. So get the Autobots, and the Maximals, and whoever else has sworn loyalty to you in the twenty four hours you've been on world, and prepare to move out."

Orion smiled. "Aye sir, we'll be ready to ship out within the hour."

Magnus looked to Roller and Elita. "You too, Elita One and Emir Pax, have your forces ready for travel."

"Yes Lord Magnus." Elita replied, then looked to Orion with a sad smile.

"Well O, looks like you've got your work cut out for you." Roller piped up as he slapped his brother on the upper arm. "Two armies to organize, I suspect the Maximus's will help with transporting the Maximals, and the Autobots are better equipped now than most high houses, but still, you're going to be a very busy boy from this point on. I'll send Torenia your love." Roller turned and headed off toward the side of the building, hoping Orion and Elita would be granted a moment in private to say good bye, but he knew that was a long shot at best. "Hey Lord Magnus, wait up!" He trotted quickly to catch up to Ultra Magnus. "Think we're headed in the same direction, and was wondering what sort of plan your Emir has come up with." The two high-born transformed and drove off.

The ride back to the command center was uneventful, Ultra Magnus's description of Delta Magnus's plans had not changed in the few hours since their last meeting. The base was chaos around them as warriors of all sorts were preparing to go north and civilians were preparing to go south. Roller even caught sight of Omega Supreme being strapped to the hull of a civilian freighter bound for Hyperious. The dark blue emir lamented that they couldn't make use of Omega Supreme for this battle, but thanked the miracle that he was still alive. With the engineers and smiths of Hyperious working on him, he'd be battle ready in a few months, possibly several weeks if they were lucky. And hopefully they wouldn't even need him to win this war. He and Orion acting alone had dealt the monsters a significant blow, the combined forces of Cybertron should make short work of the beasts.

As expected, the soldiers of The Torus Heights were ready to go, and they wound up having to wait for the other houses and organizations before taking off an hour later. Several of the decimated houses had to use what transports they had to ferry any surviving assets to the south, so some of those willing to fight requested a ride to Peptex aboard one of the House Pax ships, so Roller found himself once again sitting across from Minimus Ambus, this time aboard the Stellar Spear and with Dominus Ambus seated to Minimus's left. Roller studied the Emir of Tyrest, the brilliant Dominus Ambus, perhaps the only individual his kinsman Minimus would concede was smarter than himself. Dominus Ambus bore a powerful blue frame, similar in many ways to Orion's, just a couple feet shorter, a bit less bulky in the chest, shoulders and limbs, and less tapered through the mid-section, but still an imposing and impressive physique. Even their vehicular modes were similar. But facially, they were very different. True, he and Minimus both bore the traditional Ambus post-protoformal helmet and head crest which was not vastly different from the Convoy helm that Orion bore, but their beard and mustache adornments, as well as Dominus's dark yellow optics were very different from Orion's facial features. "We appreciate you providing passage to us and our retainers, Emir Pax." The bearded Dominus stated.

"Of course, Emir Ambus, it was the least we could do." Roller replied. "Though I had thought you to have been in the company of House Magnus."

Dominus nodded and gave his kinsman a sideways glance that conveyed a sense of frustration. "Lord Minimus took it upon himself to offend Emir Magnus's priestess, and we felt it best we find a different way to Peptex."

Roller nodded and gave a subtle smile to Minimus. He too was not fond of the tall priestess. "I understand. It's a short trip anyway, we should be there soon." Roller turned to gaze through the window. The sky was cluttered with large freighters, mid-sized passenger craft, a handful of smaller ships, with the occasional military vessel coasting north through the clouds with them. Zipping through the transports were several dozen Cybertronians in jet modes, most, to Roller's chagrin, bore the face of the Warrior on their wings. Another hour and a half later they were coming upon the plains outside of Peptex, and the landing and disembarking began. Roller never did catch sight of Orion prior to the battle, but he would not have had time for anything more than a quick 'hello', as the battle preparations were daunting and rushed, as he had no doubt they were for Orion and his two factions. But they were eventually as prepared as they could have hoped to be, just as the sounds of thousands of marching feet could be heard. "Here they come." He called out to the Pax forces and others around them.

From the northwest they came, tens of thousands of forms marching along the coast. "Your orders, Emir Pax?" Stronghold Pax asked as he walked up to Roller from behind.

"You've mounted the long range cannons, right?" Roller asked.

"Of course sir, though it seems beyond odd that these weapons we've procured over the years are mounted in Nova Cronum and pointed toward The Torus Heights." Stronghold chuckled, his statement getting a short laugh out of Roller as well.

"Yeah, this is not how I envisioned us using them as I smuggled them into our borders over the years." Roller replied. "I know they're a ways out, but see about targeting the giants. The demons, primordials or whatever they're called. They have a dermis like the walls of Tyger Pax, but if you kill them, they stay dead, and they're too powerful to let get close to us."

"And what if the sparkeaters get close?" Roadbuster asked as he too approached from behind them, his optics locked onto the distant mass of enemies.

"We need them to get close." Roller replied. "Can't kill them if they're not close. Need to penetrate their armor and destroy their sparks. Anything else will just leave them to heal and continue their attack, and whatever ordinance we used on them will have been wasted." Explosions began going off within the enemy ranks, and it was quickly apparent that fliers, likely Decepticons, were attacking the oncoming horde.

"Let's hope Megatron isn't wasting ordinance." Stronghold muttered.

"Megatron may be the most vile piece of shit on the planet, but if the last few days have taught us anything," Roller replied in a grumble as he pulled out some view-enhancers and put them over his optics, "he's beyond competent in military matters." Roller studied the scene in the distance his enhanced sight was offering him, and noted that yes, the fliers were targeting the giant monstrous demons. The creatures were weathering the assault quite well unfortunately, and three of the more daring Cybertronian fliers flew close enough to be impacted by the beasts energy-draining abilities, two wobbling away back into the clouds, but one unable to overcome the drain and crashing to the ground, immediately set upon by vicious sparkeaters.

Roller then noticed four shapes burst forth from the rear of the mass of creatures and shoot into the sky, two dark sleek winged forms engaged the Cybertronian fliers, as did a bright yellow and white winged jet similar in shape to the modern Cybertronian fliers, and a black helicopter of sorts. The Cybertronian fliers engaged the four fliers of the demon army and pelted them with various ordinance, but the attacks did little good against them. The aerial demon's returned fire, but their ordinance was minimal and after several ineffective strafes they started bearing down on and colliding with the Cybertronians. The long wings of the largest winged-enemy sliced into the coalition fliers and made them drop from the sky, and to Roller's horror, he saw the damage done to the opposing jet seem to immediately heal itself. "Slag, they're flying sparkeaters! At least that one is!"

"Thought they didn't bother with alt modes." Roadbuster questioned.

"Never said they didn't have them, just that outside Jiger's bug modes we didn't see any." Roller snapped as the Cybertronian fliers turned away from the fight and returned to their comrades, allowing the sparkeaters to continue their march toward the rest of them. "Doesn't matter, vehicle modes or not, we'll take them. We outnumber them, we're far more technologically advanced than the armies that beat them fifteen million years ago, we already know how to kill them, and there's only one direction for them to go right now. We're gonna win, trust me, we're gonna win. Now, once their fliers get into range, target them and bring them down."

"Thought it was a waste of ordinance." Stronghold replied.

"You blast their wings to shreds, and they'll heal, but not til after they crash." Roller answered. "Once they're on the ground, we can gut them and take their sparks."

"Works for me." Stronghold responded before nodding to a Pax guard mounted on a long range cannon. Aside from the helicopter, the demon fliers returned to the ground, transformed and marched onward with their comrades. The black helicopter continued over their army, keeping pace with the monsters below it.

They didn't have to wait long, within a few minutes the monsters had covered nearly half of the distance separating the armies and the fight was just minutes from commencing in earnest. "Sprocket, are you and the other ships ready?" Roller asked into his wrist communicator.

"Yes sir, the Stellar Spear is primed and ready, and all other pilots here are champing at the bit awaiting Emir Magnus's order." The voice came back.

"I'd expect it to come through any moment." Roller answered.

Not ten seconds passed before… "All craft, take to the sky and obliterate them. They're now too close to make an effective retreat, so soften them up for us!" The voice of Delta Magnus erupted through all channels. A few seconds more and the sounds of various attack and armed transport ships were heard approaching and then shooting overhead toward the enemy forces. They immediately laid into the sparkeater army with enough ordinance to devastate cities, causing hundreds of mutants to die within the opening minutes of the barrage and half of the few dozen demons to drop to the ground. The hundreds of sparkeaters broke ranks and charged forward maniacally toward the army of the living, causing the Cybertronians to open fire on the charging beasts. The handheld weaponry had minimal effect on them, and within moments the monsters were leaping into the ranks of the Cybertronian warriors, wreaking havoc.

Roller charged forward toward a pair of sparkeaters that had breached the Pax lines, grenade launcher in one hand and an irradiated dagger in the other. One of the sparkeaters had pounced upon the House Pax communications specialist Playback, a Nova Cronum commoner who had spent vorns in Iacon working for a vidfeed service but had come to Polarus for a fresh start six vorns ago, and had proven competent enough to work for the royal house of The Torus Heights. He cried out in pain as the sparkeater tore his chest open, but the beast paused before tearing further into his chest, sniffing the open wound before looking up and letting out a terrifying shriek. The creature then turned away from the injured Playback, who was reduced to clutching his mangled chest and moaning in agony, and leapt toward the hulking Roadbuster who was charging toward it. Its attack on Roadbuster was interrupted by a round from Roller's grenade launcher impacting the beast's chest and sending it sprawling across the ground. Immediately Roadbuster and Inferno were hacking at it with irradiated swords in an attempt to cut it open. The blade did slice through the metal dermis of the horrifying creature, but the beast fought back, smashing the both of them away and then charging Roller, the wounds stitching back together as he charged.

Roller stabbed at it, but while the blade cut into its abdomen, the beast seemed not to notice at all as its fingers tore into Roller's upper chest armor. "Argh!" Roller cried out in pain, but weapons fire from different directions forced the sparkeater back a few steps, giving Roller to raise his grenade launcher and fire it at point blank range into the creature's face. The explosion sent Roller flying back, momentarily knocked unconscious, fluttered back in and out of consciousness as he bounced across the ground. He looked up to see the headless sparkeater thrashing about on the ground just a few feet from the still groaning Playback as Pax warriors swarmed it, hacking and slashing. A second sparkeater leapt upon the soldiers assaulting his comrade and tore Inferno's arm off at the shoulder socket. The soldiers began combatting the second monster, leaving the headless first on the ground writhing next to Playback as its body stitched itself back together. Roller, still quite dazed, saw the shredded chest and immediately pulled himself up and lunged at the wounded beast, dagger in hand.

He swatted away the creature's mangled left arm and drove his irradiated blade into the creature's chest, pulling back and hacking away until enough of the chest cavity was open and exposed for him to reach in and grab the spark chamber. Orion had made it look so much easier than the task actually was, as his most powerful yanks proved nowhere near sufficient to jar the most critical of organs loose. Roller looked up at the quickly reassembling face of the creature, and knew his time was about up, but looked over and noticed several handheld demolition charges on a belt strapped around Playback a few feet away. Roller lunged toward his comrade, ripped two charges from the belt, activated them, thrust his hands back into the sparkeater's chest, pulled his empty but gore-covered hands free of the monster's chest, and lunged back toward Playback, lifting him as best he could and dragging him away from the healing beast as quickly as he could. They were roughly thirty yards away when the mangled but nearly reformed sparkeater got back to his feet and managed to peer at them with a partially reformed optic. That optic stretched wide as it felt something, and a moment later his torso exploded, sending chunks everywhere, and throwing Roller and Playback to the metal and rock ground. Roller looked over at various pieces of the sparkeater, terrified they'd start being pulled back together, but this time there was no movement.

"Ya…you killed it." Playback muttered through his pain as Roller pulled himself back up and started to help Playback up as well.

A huge gray foot came out of nowhere and slammed into Roller's back, sending him bouncing across the ground again. "Yes, he killed it." A deep voice grumbled a reply to Playback's observation. Roller twisted his head and peered at the owner of the foot that had left a big painful dent in his back, and felt the fear well up at recognizing the creature as the sparkeater that had transformed into the largest of their jets. The creature possessed nearly the same stature as Delta Magnus, but impossibly he seemed to exude even more power, and unlike any sparkeater Roller had seen other than Violen Jiger, this one's optics, that were now boring into his own, possessed intelligence. "It makes its discovery of you nothing more than a wash." The hulking gray creature, a massive but odd sword that bowed out like an axe blade at the tip clutched tightly in his right hand, turned down toward Playback. "Unless of course you can prove to me that you're brilliant in the next five seconds."

"Whah?" Playback stammered out, then turned to look at Roller. "Emir Pax, I don…". He turned back to the monster standing over him as Roller pushed to get back to his feet, but the agony in his back forced him to stop. "Wha, I…I, I'm smart. I mean, smarter than average."

"Not smart enough!" The hulking and talking sparkeater roared impatiently as he drove the clawed fingers of his left hand into the much smaller robot's chest, and into what Roller knew to be his spark chamber.

"No!" Roller yelled as he forced himself up through the pain and started stumbling over to the assault. He looked around on the ground for a weapon, and caught sight of a rifle. He leaned over to pick it up, but watched it explode before his hand got to it. He looked back up at the giant sparkeater, just now noticing that in addition to the oddly shaped sword in the creature's right hand, it also had a small fusion cannon on his right forearm. Worse, it was a portable fusion cannon Roller recognized, one that he had bought years ago for the defense of Tyger Pax and one of the few weapons he had left behind when he had needed to evacuate the compound.

The hulking creature grinned at him with yellow fangs lining its mouth. "Emir Pax, is it? Then I should thank you for this cannon, folds up nicely in the jet the master had my shell mode built into in the medical facility at your home. You wiped nearly everything from Tyger Pax's databases, but our new thralls were able to pull up adequate specifications from…the Cybertronian Datanet, is that it?" The creature looked down at Playback, the struggling ceased and waves of energy rolling across his optics, a low murmur coming from his lips but otherwise he seemed catatonic.

"Get off of him!" Roller growled as he continued to march toward the beast.

"If I stop now, he'll linger somewhere between his previous state and what could have been his future state…if he's lucky. Part prey, part predator, but less than either. Perhaps if the master were interrupted making him into something like me, well, he'd be far less than Aswang, but he'd be more than you. But for either scenario he would have to be very fortunate. In all likelihood, he'd just be a tremoring wreck that would never recover in any discernable way." The creature nodded at his victim below before raising his head toward Roller. "It's best for him if you allow me to finish. It will only be a moment or two more." The beast then started chuckling at seeing Roller continue his slow, painful advance. "You must be joking. You were healthy, had allies and powerful weapons, and barely were able to kill the mindless Vrykol that brought this one to my attention. What chance do you think you have against not only an Aswang, but the master's most powerful commander?"

"I said," Roller stumbled toward the massive creature and raised his fist in a futile show of aggression, "get off of him!"

The creature laughed as he rose to his full height, drawing his fingers from Playback's chest. "You get your wish, spawn of Paxus, finished I am with your former servant, in moments he will rise to serve my master."

Roller looked down at Playback, and could see the metamorphosis taking place. "What have you done to him?"

"Gave him the means to live up to his potential…" the beast shrugged, "well, some of it anyway. Those with the ability to accept the gift can theoretically become Aswang, but only Violen Jiger can create the greater of our species, and only those worthy are chosen for the honor. Otherwise, they become a soldier in our ranks of Vrykol, virtually mindless, but powerful and virtually unkillable."

"I think we both know that claim to be inaccurate." Roller snarled as he looked back up at the massive creature. "Well Aswang,"

"I did say 'virtually', didn't I? I am Bloodron, right hand of the master." The giant who stood twice Roller's height, folded his arms as the battle raged around them. "This is more discussion than I normally give those I'm about to kill, but you are apparently ruler of your territory, you are a descendant of a warrior I respected, and you've shown great courage." A screech identical to the one emitted by the sparkeater that had first pounced on Playback was heard across the battlefield, prompting Bloodron to look up and toward the direction it came from. "I'll let one of the others turn that one." He then looked back down at Roller and raised his odd sword high above his head, but he was set upon by fourteen northern warriors before he could bring it down. Stronghold Pax and a one-armed Inferno grabbed Roller to drag him away.

This Bloodron easily battered away his assailants, slicing the torsos of two northern soldiers in half with a single massive swing. "We must get you back, Emir Pax!" Inferno muttered as he and Stronghold pulled the struggling Roller away.

"No! I fight with my army!" Roller protested, but looked up as two more shrieks came out from different points on the battlefield. Those two were followed by two more at other points in the chaos.

Bloodron swatted away several other northern soldiers before letting out a snarl, leaping to the air, transforming and shooting out toward the sparkeater that emitted one of the shrieks. "Where the hell is he going?" Stronghold asked.

"The sparkeaters, the dumb feral ones, the…Vrykol, they made that noise when they find one of us that can be turned into one of them." Roller explained as he pushed against his protectors, who were no longer pushing against him, and started walking back toward the chaos. "One of those super-sparkeaters, Aswangs, then turn the Cybertronian into a sparkeater. I guess they can only make the feral kinds, but Violen Jiger can make more of the super-sparkeaters."

"So there was someone here for him to 'make'?" One of the soldiers that had been fighting Bloodron asked.

"Yes," Roller replied, realizing something and looking beyond the soldiers to see a hideous form standing beyond them, a hideous form that had once been Playback. "Watch out!" Roller yelled, but Playback was already pouncing on one of the soldiers, tearing his back open and wrenching his spark chamber out, then tearing it open and swallowing the blue orb within. "Take him down!"

While their numbers had been insignificant to Bloodron, the remaining eleven soldiers surrounding Playback were able to tackle and subdue him, while Roller, Stronghold and Inferno charged forward to help. Stronghold raised a sword high above his head. "Clear a path, boys!" The soldiers split to give him access, and he drove his blade into the newly born sparkeater's chest, piercing his spark chamber, but not fully destroying the spark, leaving Playback as savage and snarling as before. But his arms and legs were still pinned, and Stronghold twisted his blade while other soldiers proceeded to hack away as well. Roller twisted further, finally overwhelming the spark and causing it to explode, sending the northern soldiers and Playback's bodyparts flying in all directions.

Roller gingerly pushed himself back to his feet and turned to look out over other portions of the battlefield, and despite the pain coursing through him, was hit with a wave of optimism. The sparkeaters had broken through their ranks, the horrific Vrykol tearing through Cybertronians, the brutish Mutants savagely attacking fearlessly but held back for the most part and sustaining heavy casualties, and the occasional higher-functioning sparkeater, these Aswangs, directing their soldiers and battering back the Cybertronians they encountered with the ease of their feral counterparts, though none seemed to be as formidable as Bloodron, at least from what Roller could tell. But despite this, the Cybertronians were rallying, their organization and superior numbers seeming to stem the tide and providing them an edge in the battle. The huge demons, savage energy suckers, were being kept at bay by the targeted firepower of the dozens of ships zipping overhead, and behind them all, nonchalantly watching the proceedings from half a mile away, stood Violen Jiger, unmoving and almost enjoying the show.

In addition to their numbers and organization, the Cybertronians had several stand-out warriors cutting through the monsters. Megatron, as much as Roller hated him, was proving to be the most inspiring of their warriors. His forearm mounted weapon, the legendary Cannon of Machtus if what the Decepticon propaganda claimed was true, obliterated the disorganized ranks of nearby Mutants before engaging sparkeaters with his sword. He killed two feral monsters before a black helicopter dropped from the sky, transformed to a spider, killed a couple of Decepticons before transforming to a feminine robot and engaging Megatron. She was clearly intelligent, she fought with strategy, and as she had not just one, but two effective alternate modes, she was clearly an Aswang. But despite being an upper tier sparkeater, Megatron soon proved to be the more powerful of the two, and beat her into a retreat. A resounding roar erupted from not only the Decepticons, but all Cybertronians in the vicinity watching as the black helicopter sped away to a section of combat with less dangerous opponents.

Elsewhere other Cybertronian heroes were galvanizing their forces with individual acts of courage and battle prowess. Delta Magnus cut through many of the feral mindless sparkeaters with the legendary Star Saber, and there seemed to be something to the legends as the blade cut through them with great ease, and if that cut was at or near their spark chambers, they remained dead. His kinsman Ultra lacked magical weapons, but with his hammer, rifle and shoulder rockets, he disabled several long enough for blade wielding soldiers to swarm, subdue, and sometimes cut the sparks out of the monsters. Not far from them were the Autobots, led by Orion, who as always was distinguishing himself heroically. Roller watched his brother obliterate the head of a sparkeater with his ion blaster, then immediately cover the distance separating them to cut through the upper torso with an irradiated sword he'd gotten somewhere, and then pluck out the spark chamber with that sword and hurtle it into the midst of a squad of mutants, take aim, and blast the chamber, the detonation of the spark combined with the ion blaster's ordinance sent the mutants flying and scorched. A bit closer to House Pax's position were the forces of Axiom, where a dark gray form with glowing blue highlights led them against the monstrous hordes. Roller peered intently at this hulking twenty-eight foot tall robot, who tore through sparkeaters and mutants alike with unbelievable strength, excellent speed and tremendous skill. The most appropriate weapon for the situation the warrior happened to be in seemed to arise from the armor itself as new opponents and threats approached it. The monsters could do nothing to hurt it, and only at seeing their futile attempts to hurt the blue warrior did Roller realize that it was the Apex Armor, exactly as Elita had described it, but still completely amazing to behold. She started to tear through the enemy more efficiently than even Megatron at this point.

There were many other warriors standing out in their fight, but as Roller charged to re-engage the enemy, his optics landed on Fortress Maximus fighting a yellow and white creature, one that Roller recognized it as the lightly colored jet he had seen earlier. The sparkeater, who was somewhat similar in appearance to Starscream in this mode as well as his jet mode, moved with intelligence, and Roller surmised that like with Bloodron, it was an Aswang, but like with the helicopter/spider creature and other Aswangs he's observed, this one was nowhere near as powerful as Bloodron had been. Fortress was exceptionally powerful, his size, his enhancements, and in all likelihood a green spark like Orion's contributing to his tremendous might, but even with all that he never would have been able to do what Bloodron had done to Roller's squad, and Bloodron had done it without showing the slightest bit of exertion. Against this yellow and white creature though, Fort Max was definitely holding his own. It seemed an even match until Delta Magnus, wielding the Star Saber, joined him and sliced right through the creature's upper back. The beast let out a roar of pain and anger, but the two massive warriors continued until Delta Magnus raised his sword with the blue, tendril-streaked spark skewered on it.

"Sunstorm!" A thunderous and familiar roar carried over the battlefield, prompting Roller and many others to turn and look at its source. Violen Jiger, no longer looking relaxed, was finally moving forward at seeing one of his Aswangs in peril. Roller looked back at Delta Magnus, and noted the energy humming across the sword seemed to increase in intensity, and a moment later the spark exploded, throwing Delta Magnus and Fortress Maximus back several yards in different directions. "Enough!" The sparkeater king roared as he leapt into the air, covering half a mile with his leap and landing in the midst of the living army, several yards from the corpse of the creature that had been known as Sunstorm.

Delta Magnus, Fortress Maximus and hordes of other soldiers swarmed Violen Jiger, all seeing an opportunity to eliminate the enemy leadership and win the war just as it began, but as impressive as Bloodron's power had been, Violen Jiger's was so much more. He battered away Delta Magnus, sword and all, with no effort. Fortress Maximus as well as a half dozen soldiers were sent flying back with a mere swat. Megatron and the criminal Overlord charged in with the throngs of others, but they too were battered back with minimal effort. Even Orion made his way over and attacked, and was just as effortlessly hammered away, his chest armor torn by little more than a graze of Violen Jiger's knuckles. The armored Elita One charged through the masses, and all cheered as she hammered her right fist into the small of Violen Jiger's back, forcing him to stumble forward a couple steps, a follow-up punch sent him stumbling forward a few more, but her third swing was evaded as Violen Jiger gracefully sidestepped and brought his left backhand down across her head and torso. He then pounced upon her and started battering away, throngs of Cybertronian warriors came to her defense, but they were ignored for the first few seconds, and then swatted away by two quick and violent swipes of the sparkeater king's arms. He immediately went back to hammering away upon the armored emir of Axiom, rock and metal from the devastated ground spraying up with each blow. "Cursed blacksmith and her vile creations!" He roared before standing up, hauling the limp blue form up with him, and hurling it away, sending Elita careening into dozens of her own soldiers. The armies once again charged him, but Roller's optics were still on Elita, her armor remained in place but she was completely unmoving. He then scanned back to the progress of the Cybertronian swarms against the enemy leader, and noted that they could do nothing to cause him harm. His bestial hordes took full advantage of the distraction caused by their leader, charging the Cybertronian forces that were no longer focused solely on them. "This is not going to end well." Roller muttered.

Trepan

Nine wall-sized computers hummed as they analyzed the latest projection of the enlarged version of Triptych's brain module. There was so much to this, it was daunting even to the brilliant Trepan. Nobody on Cybertron knew the intricacies of brain modules nearly as well as him, but for this undertaking, even he would have considered it inconceivable half a vorn ago. Enlarging a brain module to a larger version of itself was staggering to consider; there was so much more involved than just a simple 'scaling-up'. And this, this was orders of magnitude more complex than that. To take an existing, albeit heavily damaged brain module of a vastly larger, simpler and astoundingly different species, modify it so that it could be remotely receptive to being overwritten by an existing personality and memories of a far more intellectually complex creature a tiny fraction of its size…impossible, completely impossible. At least, for anyone else, even Shockwave, it would be impossible. Even for Trepan it would be the greatest challenge of his life, but scientists tend to love challenges; Trepan more than most.

It wasn't pessimism telling him that the analysis would find flaws in his latest rendering, it was simple reality. He had not been lying when he told Shockwave that it would take years, and he was completely comfortable with that timeframe. And while the computers conducted their scans, evaluations and simulations, he familiarized himself with Shockwave's pet project. Giving serious consideration to the old myth about enhanced performance due to spark compatibility and proximity seemed like a joke when Shockwave had first described it to him. The idea that certain individuals got marginally 'better' around those with kindred sparks had always existed, but any reasonable individual had discarded the notion. To hear that Shockwave had been conducting serious experimentation on it was beyond surprising, so see Shockwave's results that all but proved that the ancient myth possessed merit was jaw-dropping. And his hypothesis regarding physical modifications that could capitalize on and enhance these enhancements further, to levels almost absurd to consider, was beyond fascinating. What he was proposing provided a sort of fallback should things with Trypticon not work out. Trepan traced his finger over the projected design changes to Hook and Scrapper on the data pad before having his attention diverted to the beeping communications console on the far end of the subterranean chamber.

He traversed the metal and rock covered ground, stepping over lumps and small outcroppings of geological and metallurgical clumps that served as reminders that this state of the art facility was embedded in the untamed subterranean caverns of Nyon's boneyards. He rounded on last table covered in tablets illuminating data from various inquiries, equations and experiments and reached the console, switching open the channel. "Yes?"

"Trepan, we're coming up on the battle." Shockwave's emotionless voice cut through. "It appears to be going poorly, I don't have enough data to formulate accurate odds, but in all likelihood the sparkeaters will not be contained. Prepare evacuation and relocation of all assets."

Trepan grumbled more in annoyance than disappointment or fear. "As you command. We will be away from this location by day's end."

"See that you are. Shockwave out."

Shockwave

The transmissions from the ships on site over the battle had initially been positive, but only for a very short while. Within the first hour the transmissions grew bleak and began depicting a quickly losing battle, a chaotic breakdown of the Cybertronian forces against the smaller army of vastly more powerful sparkeaters, a breakdown initiated by their leader's advance into the fray. What Shockwave's Decepticons, and the Autobots traveling slightly ahead of them were coming upon was the rout one would assume to be the aftermath of such a battle, with Cybertronian forces frantically trying to reorganize, but thinning out greatly as many of their numbers transformed and started to flee. The Decepticons were easy to spot, they were still fighting effectively and were by far the most disciplined of the warriors on the field, but even they soon would be facing inevitable defeat, especially as their allies were wiped out or fled.

Shockwave stepped forward into the cockpit and leaned over the pilot, Razorclaw's flier Divebomb, and pointed out over the center of the battle. "Take us there and hover." Shockwave turned to Razorclaw who had been standing behind him. "Order Onslaught to ready his team."

"Sir, my Predacons are the best melee combatants we have." The hulking black, red, orange and yellow warrior replied from the door linking the cockpit to the passenger section. "Perhaps we should be the vanguard."

"Predacons?" Shockwave asked. "You've taken beast modes, but you are of Altihex. Why choose a designation based on Nyonian legend?"

"Initially it was to piss off the Nyonian gladiators," Razorclaw replied, "but we came to study the legends and found that in our new forms we fought, and hunted, and dominated much the way the Predacons of legend did, so we embraced the name."

"So be it." Shockwave replied disinterestedly. "We have no chance at victory, I have no doubt that you and your team would kill several of those things down there, but you would eventually be overwhelmed and be repelled, or more likely killed. Our best course of action is to facilitate an effective retreat for Megatron and the other Decepticons. That involves ranged combat, firepower; Onslaught and his team are better able to provide that than you." Shockwave explained as he straightened up and turned to leave the cockpit.

"Understood sir, I will get him immediately." Razorclaw answered before turning to find his fellow Altihexian.

A moment later the tall, lean Onslaught and three other warriors were assembling in front of Shockwave. "Sir, what are your orders?"

"Dispatch Blastoff and Vortex to provide aerial support for a Decepticon retreat." The purple commander replied. "You, Brawl and Swindle will do the same from the port hatches."

"Sir, about the Polyhexian…" Onslaught muttered, "he's very bright, he's beyond resourceful, but he…well, he just doesn't fit in. Soldiers require some measure of honor and discipline, but he, well, he still has not made his way here despite receiving the order to do so."

"Swindle may not share all of the traits you feel members of your squad should have," Shockwave answered, "but the spark evaluation results of the five of you suggest that you would be an ideal match. Do you not drill well together?"

"Actually sir, yes, we do. But…"

"You are his commander, you are free to discipline him in whatever manner you wish," Shockwave interrupted, "but he is a member of your team, so find him and instruct him to carry out my orders."

"Yes sir." Onslaught snapped back obediently and turned to instruct his team. Moments later Blast Off and Vortex were airborne, as were numerous other fliers from the other transports under Shockwave's command, and all of those transports had their most well-armed and most skilled marksmen firing down into the soldiers of the dead that were threatening to surround or block off their Decepticon comrades. A huge, dark gray sparkeater transformed into a jet that almost seemed worthy of space travel, and shot into the sky, opening fire into the cockpit of one of the rear-most transports. It transformed back to robot mode and landed on the cracked windshield of the vessel, a massive oddly-shaped sword in his hand, and he brought the melee weapon down to obliterate the barely functional windshield. Shockwave could only watch as he climbed into the ship across the sky and it started to plummet down, crashing into dozens of soldiers that looked to be fighting for House Magnus.

"Divebomb, contact Megatron, go through Soundwave if you need to, and let him know he must retreat now." Shockwave called into his own cockpit. "We have only minutes here before we too are over-run."

Shockwave then marched over to the open doorway of the passenger section where Onslaught was in his mobile artillery mode firing down at the enemy. He stepped over Onslaught's shellmode and fell into the air, dropping a couple hundred feet before activating the propulsion systems he had built into his frame, hovering high in the air, then transforming to cannon mode and opening fire on the huge gray sparkeater as it emerged from the flaming wreck of the ship he had downed. The blast sent the creature skidding across the ground, but what little damage it did sustain seemed to heal immediately. The beast grinned at his distant attacker as he got back to his feet, but was quickly swarmed by Magnus retainers. Shockwave turned his attention to the rest of the battlefield, his goal to stifle any further air power the sparkeaters may have, but as he scanned the scene he realized how lost their cause truly was. The armies of Cybertron had devolved into nothing more than disorganized rabble. Even the Decepticons were starting to fray. A large scale retreat was beyond the realm of possibility. Shockwave had always believed himself to be devoid of emotion, but for the first time he was not only feeling fear, but despair. And then it happened.

The ground rumbled once. Then again. And again. Shockwave accessed sensor equipment in Harmonex and the lab in the Nyonian boneyards, both thousands of miles away, and verified that they were experiencing the same seismic upheaval. It had been fifteen years since the last Vectoral Surge, but there was no doubt that this was another birthquake. The sparkeaters screeched joyfully as one at sensing the immeasurable life-force pushing its way to the surface. It was a horrific noise, one that infinitely increased the dread in the already terrified Cybertronians. Even the sparkeater-allied mutants, the few that still survived, were completely unnerved at the shrilled cries of joy, likely knowing and rightfully fearing the feeding frenzy that was soon to ensue.

A soft glow emerged a mile northing of the battlefield, something that surprised Shockwave as there were no pre-existing hotspots in that region, but new ones formed every few centuries. The new hotspot was a tremendous boon to the armies of Cybertron, as even Violen Jiger seemed unable to rein in his army and prevent thousands of them from charging the new, and going by the glow's growing intensity, very fertile hotspot. The location of the hotspot, while beneficial to the Cybertronian warriors, would be the doom of those newborns unfortunate enough to emerge there. But Shockwave was not one to miss an opportunity just because it emerged due to another's misfortune. "Megatron," he insistently barked through a channel he hoped the Decepticon leader was accessing, "this is our only chance to retreat!"

"I am aware of that!" Megatron belted back before opening every frequency and continuing. "Decepticons, retreat!"

Elita One

Optics came back online to register the fading light of day. It was a clear view, despite her last memories being of a spider web of cracks forming under Violen Jiger's assault right before descending into total blackness. The Apex Armor was apparently not impervious to all manner of punishment, but it did seem to have a very effective self-repair system as any and all cracks were completely gone. Elita felt her body jostle a bit, then a bit more, and finally realized that she was being carried. "Release me!"

The movement stopped, and she was carefully but quickly placed down onto her feet. "My Lady, good, you are awake!" The largest of four guards, a stout orange warrior named Brightforge, addressed her with a broad but nervous grin. "Transform my One, we all must, and retreat from this place. The battle is lost, our generals are seeing to the withdrawal of our soldiers, but we must get the One safely away."

"The One does not abandon her troops!" Elita snapped back, then turned back toward the fading sounds of battle. "We will return to our forces, to all of Cybertron's forces, and continue the fight!"

"My Lady," another guard, a smaller, lean soldier by the name of Rapier, replied, "our forces are already in retreat, most are farther from the sparkeaters than we are, as is the case of all Cybertron's forces."

"Every army is evacuating, my One." A blue and yellow guard named Nightstreak added. "We will regroup at some point, but we must see you safely away."

"My Lady, we must move now." Brightforge stressed, and smiled in relief as a nod came from the armored Elita.

Elita stepped back away from her soldiers and held her arms straight ahead of her. With a mental command the armor retracted away from her body, along her arms and gathered into the ancient oval-shaped shield-like disk, now clasped in her hands. She released it, transformed immediately into her ground cruiser mode, the shield dropping and landing on her hood, some clasps emerging from her hood to hold it. Her guards transformed as well and she led them further away from the battleground, toward the thick forest a few miles away that ran for hundreds of miles along the northern coastline of the Mithril Sea, the infamous haunted Mechigahara Forest. Organic trees grew in such density that the interior rarely saw sunlight, and even smaller Cybertronians had extreme difficulty in traversing through the dark forest. An odd mixture of ores running beneath the ground of the area disoriented many navigation devices, and legends depicting evil animal spirits and demons doing harm to intruders went back many millions of years.

It would be difficult for Elita and her guards to get through, but hopefully it would be just as difficult for the sparkeaters to get through after them. Upon reaching the coast she would attempt to contact other Cybertronians, or if still being pursued, they could submerge into the depths of the Sea, which hopefully would allow them to shake any persistent sparkeaters, and from there, well, she supposed she could find her way back to Insula Avalonius. Up until a few million years ago there had been dozens of thriving port cities along the shoreline at the edge of the forest, port cities that had served as the primary launch point to for Nova Cronum vessels traversing the Mithril Sea. But according to legend, the demons of the forest had over time driven the denizens from each of the numerous port villages and towns. So perhaps, while unlikely, a craft may have been left behind, one made of true Cybertronain ore that could last the ravages of millions of years' worth of erosion and neglect, that she and her soldiers might be able to get to working order and set sail. A million to one shot, but positive thoughts made it easier to continue on after such a defeat.

The metal ground soon gave way to a mixture of metal and rock, then to rock and dirt, and soon the vegetation escaping out from the forest was popping up around them. They were weaving around the occasional tree, the arboreal wall of the Mechigahara Forest was now only seconds away, the tree line representing the end of their use of alternate modes until they would be able to finally emerge from the forest. The sound of rotor blades cutting through the air drew her attention away from the forest ahead, and she directed her attention to what her rear-facing cameras were directing into her brain module. A black helicopter darted toward them, then over, then dropped to a nearby tree, transforming in the air as it fell. Elita and her team transformed as well, but just as she attained robot mode and started to reach for the Apex Shield, a thick web slapped it and pulled it away a half-second before she could grasp it. Elita's optics immediately shot to the giant, hideous metal spider in the tree one hundred yards away sucking the shield toward it, and emitting a cruel, feminine laugh as it did so. "Tsk tsk tsk, too bad, my Lady. With Solus's special little suit there would be very little chance of me stopping you from reaching the forest and battering a path for yourself. Of course, I'd still have killed your comrades, but you'd likely have made it to safety." The multi-eyed beast snickered at them. "But now, well, you'll be as much my prey as they will, and I'll have this as a trophy to present to Violen Jiger."

"Kill it!" Brightforge yelled out.

"Protect the One!" Nightstreak called out as well as he and Rapier placed themselves between the creature and their Emir, each bearing a sword in one hand and a rifle in the other.

"I need no protection!" Elita snarled back. "We kill it, reclaim the armor, and retreat into the forest!"

"Yes, come kill it." The spider laughed as it leapt from the tree and hit the ground running toward them. The Cybertronians fired upon it, their aim true, but like with all other sparkeaters, the spider's wounds healed almost immediately and her progress was not slowed in the least. The beast leapt upon the smallest of her guards, the quiet one named Cauldron, and tore into his chest as they hit the ground. Her bestial head dipped, and then jerked back up, Cauldron's pulsing blue spark gripped in her mandibles.

Brightforge roared out in rage and drove his shoulder into the beast, barely pushing it back at all as it absorbed Cauldron's spark into its monstrous body, barely aware that it was being struck. The creature swatted Brightforge away with one of its eight limbs, then transformed into a feminine robot and prepared to engage the other three attackers, the Apex Shield still firmly clutched in her left hand. They were well trained, but their melee assaults were just as fruitless as the shots fired from their rifles and cannons. She was stronger than any one of them, but not so strong as to be able to overwhelm all of them with her strength alone. Elita and Rapier shoved her back and Nightstreak battered her head with the butt of his rifle. The sparkeater only laughed and smacked Nightstreak to the ground with the Apex Shield. As he fell she delivered a snap kick to Elita's abdomen, sending the Emir of Axion bouncing across the ground. She then punched Rapier in the face, knocking him down, and she was immediately upon him, bashing his face to metal bits with the stolen blue disk in her hands.

Brightforge was upon her, too late to save Rapier, but hammering her with every bit of strength he had. His blows did cause her to stumble back a few steps, but at no point was she ever disoriented or in trouble. At least until her lower left arm, the one clutching the Apex Shield, was suddenly detached. The sparkeater looked down to see Nightstreak's sword dripping with her fluids, and his other hand reaching to grasp the Shield. He grabbed it as she leaned down to allow her stump of an upper arm make contact with her detached lower arm and allow them to reconnect. Nightstreak leapt to her side and flung the disk toward Elita. The Shield almost reached Elita's waiting hands, but once again a web shot out an intercepted it, one launched from the creatures uninjured right arm. The two remaining guards lunged into the beast, causing her retrieval yank to send it wide and past her. Nightstreak's sword once again flew into action, slicing through the web and sending the flying Apex disk toward the forest. It clanged against a tree and fell to the ground within the shadows of the ancient and ominous forest. The femme sparkeater snarled and turned on Nightstreak, thrusting her fingers into his face and tearing it open. Elita was nearly upon them, ready to defend her countrymen.

"Lady Elita!" Brightforge roared. "The Armor!" Elita halted, looked at him and realized he was right. She turned to the shadow of the forest and saw the blue disk on the rocky ground. The distance was just at the point where running would get her there as quickly as a transformation and drive, so she sprinted toward the tree line, away from her likely dying guards, to get to the one thing that could save them all. She heard pained grunts coming from Brightforge behind her, knowing that in all likelihood those would be his final utterances, but she was almost to the Apex Armor, almost to victory.

It was only twenty yards away when suddenly a dark form landed between she and it. Elita's spark dropped as she looked up to see the fluid streaked face of their assailant, a hideous smile stretched across her face. Her optics lowered to see a soundless scream coming from Brightforge's detached head clutched in the sparkeater's right hand. "Soooo close." The creature mocked. "Your soldiers were valiant, but alas, their cause was lost from the start, their chosen leader simply not worth following."

"I'm not dead yet, foul beast." Elita snarled as she took on a combat stance. "Come finish the job."

"With pleasure." The dark feminine form growled as she took a step forward, just as the trees behind her exploded, a gray and red blur blasting through them and slamming into the back of the sparkeater.

Elita was stunned as the predominantly gray form charged the sparkeater past her, a red blade-like horn thrust through her dark, spindly body and jutting through the front. "You insult beasts, highborn!" A gravelly roar thundered from the gray form. Elita stared, taking it in, and finally realized what it was. A giant metal rhinokeron had the sparkeater gored and pinned to the metal, rock and dirt ground. "Retrieve your weapon, fool!" The voice belted out, snapping Elita out of her stunned motionlessness.

Elita turned and sprinted to her disk, finally reaching it, gripping both ends, and willing it to engulf her. She turned as the process began, and watched as the sparkeater recovered and threw the rhinokeron off of her. The creature was roughly fifty percent larger than the flesh and blood version of the creature, and being a mechanoid was vastly stronger, but the metal beast was still not strong enough to knock over the sparkeater a second time. Its second charge was met by a punch to its thick skull, sending the rhino to the ground with a thud. The sparkeater snarled before turning toward the now-sprinting Elita, shock in its optics as a speeding blue fist battered her face and sent the black creature skidding across the ground. Elita didn't pause to admire her blow, her battles with Decepticons and sparkeaters had made her fully aware of the power she wielded while donning the Apex Armor. It had come up short against this creature's master, but it would be sufficient to kill her.

Elita fell upon the other femme, her fists already a blur of motion before she even settled upon the creature. The head was pulverized in moments, so she continued to the upper torso. That was battered within a few strikes, but the regrowth of the cranial structure made Eliat realize that the beast was not destroyed, and would never be destroyed as long as its spark existed. She considered leaving the beast alive for a time, subjecting the creature to the torture of bodily destruction, regeneration, and further bodily destruction for hours before finally ending the monster's misery, but as furious and saddened as she was by the death of her guards as well as all the soldiers that had fallen in battle, she was not a sadist, and would derive no sense of satisfaction from needless inflicting of pain. She decided to end it, drove her fingers into the creature's chest until she penetrated the spark chamber, and wrenched the torso open to reveal the pulsing blue spark, covered in black tendrils. Elita grasped it, tore it free and hurled it into the air. Using weapons that emerged from the forearms of the Armor, she targeted the spark and opened fire. The explosion marked the end of the creature's twitching beneath her, but she knew it would also draw the attention of its comrades.

Her gaze turned to follow the sound of movement behind her, and she saw the metal rhinokeron slowing walking back toward the hole in the tree line that it had created moments before. It stopped just short of entering the forest before turning back and fixing eerie yellow optics on her. "Well, your majesty, you comin' or not?" The beast then turned back and continued into the blackness of the haunted forest, and, nowhere else to go and aware that the sparkeaters would be arriving at some point, Elita rose to her feet and followed him in.

Kup

The withdrawal, much like the battle, had been a chaotic mess. Kup had started the battle fighting with the forces of House Pax, which seemed the best fit as the descendants of Paxus had always proven to be the truest friends of the Wardens. But as the battle raged he found himself pulled by the combat toward the forces hailing from Tyrest, specifically those from the city of Damaxus, those following Thunderclash, a vassal to House Ambus that had been awarded title and lands by Dominus Ambus for his good work as Chief of Security for the royal house. While unquestionably deserved, the elevation to lord for Thunderclash had come to be seen in recent days as an unfortunate event, as it meant he had moved away from Centurion to the lands granted him in Damaxus, and was therefore not there to defend House Ambus when the Decepticons attacked.

In all likelihood the presence of one individual, even the legendary Thunderclash, would not have made a difference in the slaughter, but seeing the warrior fight was inspiring none the less. But despite the skill shown by Thunderclash, and Megatron, and Delta Magnus and others, the tide turned irreversibly once the sparkeater king joined the fray. They were routed, they were defeated, they were doomed; until Cybertron sacrificed newborn to save them. The planetary pulse had changed everything, and the emergence of a hotspot just north of them had drawn the majority of the sparkeaters away from the battle for a gluttonous feast. Kup looked on to the glow in the distance with horror and pity, but had resigned himself to not being able to do anything for them. Thunderclash however felt less resigned to the newborns' fate, and ordered his followers north to do whatever they could. The Damaxus noble was brave and heroic, but he wasn't stupid, there would be no driving the sparkeaters away from the hotspot, or protecting it from them, but perhaps they could save a few of the newborn, gather up the sentio metalico that surrounded a few of the newly surfaced sparks and maybe it would be enough to give that new life a chance. The odds weren't with them, but Kup and every warrior under Thunderclash's command felt it to be their duty.

By the time they reached the hotspot the sparkeaters were already tearing into the sacred life-ground, pulling up blue orbs and swallowing them whole. But the hotspot was huge, the largest Kup had ever seen, and there were eruptions on the outskirts that the sparkeaters had not yet gotten to. Twenty-seven soldiers had managed to abscond with twenty-nine blobs of metal that would hopefully ripen into protoforms; each soldier carrying one, Thunderclash carrying three. It was painful to leave behind the dozens at that point undiscovered by the monsters, but they could only carry what they could carry, and they sadly left those still in the ground to their fate and quickly made their way northeast toward a small cluster of mountains that led to a road on the other side of them, a road that would take them, eventually, to Iacon.

"You fought well, Lord Commander," Thunderclash commented once they were far enough away to feel conversation was safe, "and your assistance in saving what few protoforms we could was heroic. All Cybertron will sing your praises once we've rallied and finally defeated this unnatural evil, and that one in particular," the hulking noble nodded to the emerging protoform in Kup's arms, "that one will love you for the entirety of his life."

"It's a her," Kup replied, holding out the developing gray blob to show the emerging curves and other shapes normally associated with Cybertronain femmes, "and I don't deserve praises or love, and I'm certainly no longer worthy of the title Lord Commander. On my watch the Gates were breached, the monsters released, and the Wardens destroyed."

"None could have prevented what came to pass." Thunderclash replied solemnly. "I know this to be fact, and in time even you will come to accept the truth of it."

"That certainly won't be this day." Kup spat. "It is you that proved to be a hero today, my lord."

Thunderclash laughed. "I will never be comfortable being referred to as a lord, and I was no more heroic than any of my soldiers."

Kup smiled and looked to the peaks of metal and rock inviting them in the distance. "We've got a helluva trek ahead of us."

"Yes, that we do." Thunderclash replied. "But once off this terrain and through those mountains, we'll find roads and be able to traverse the remainder of the way in vehicle mode." He gently shuffled the three protoforms he was effortlessly carrying. "I suppose it'll give me time to put some thought into the names for these three." The twenty-six and a half foot tall hero looked back down at the protoform in Kup's arms. "You should probably come up with a name for that one."

Kup smiled, and remembered approaching Orion Pax in Petrex the day before to thank him for his rescue of Omega Supreme. The returning outlaw was with Elita One, and at approaching them Kup had greeted her first, offering his condolences for the tragedy that had befallen her house, and then remarking about her beauty. Orion had smiled and agreed, adding that she was quite 'cee', and explained that the term was used by those he had been with as an analogue to beautiful. Kup had found the term quaint, but wound up taking a liking to it. "I've already done that." He turned his smile up at Thunderclash. "Her name is Arcee." 


End file.
